It's Only Forever, Not Long At All
by ZiggycamefromMars
Summary: How will Sarah fare now she's living in the Underground? The sequel to 'Just Fear Me, Love Me'. Please read 'Just Fear Me, Love Me' before reading this, (Well, only if you want it to make complete sense!)
1. Chapter 1: Jareth, is this me?

**NOTICE: ALL CHAPTERS HAVE BEEN EDITTED AS OF 27/06/2013.**

**A/N: I am back and ready to continue with my Jareth/Sarah story! **

**I know some of you have been somewhat eager to read on since reading 'Just Fear Me, Love Me,' so I've decided that, after a long hiatus due to final examinations, I'm going to continue. How could I leave you wonderful people hanging? **

**I do believe I may be a bit rusty, so just hang on for the ride and we'll see if I can get my writing to be at an acceptable level. **

**Reviews are always and gratefully appreciated- just don't kick a girl while she's down!**

A lot had happened five months after the unpleasant ordeal- at least it seemed that way to Sarah, who found out new things every day; stealing glances in uncharted areas, stalking the halls at night for some sort of secret passage to explore. Jareth, on the other hand, felt as if the days were too long and far too dull. His daily torment had ceased for Sarah _lived _with him, meaning that he no longer had to suffer the unbearable feeling of uninvited longing.

He swore that every day her childlike behaviour of learning and discovering new things made her all the more beautiful, for there was something satisfying about watching her prance about the gardens when she thought no one was looking. Yet, at the same time, there was something he found disturbing about his thoughts; he should have moved on, found another to love and to cherish, but the thought of Sarah always made him stop to think. It couldn't go on like this forever, could it? His uncle grew impatient, for his nephew was not married, had no children, and the other Fae began to talk.

Today just happened to be one of those beautiful days- quiet, yet so full of noise; her laughter, her songs, her happiness- and it was enough to make Jareth smile.

"King Jareth!"

Jareth turned on his heels at the sound of the shrill voice. It seemed both wavered by his actions and shocked.

"Lesera?" Jareth delicately raised an eyebrow, his frown and the compulsion to shout at whoever it was for interrupting his alone time; gone, replaced by a smile. He cherished the disgusted and confused look on her face, simply disregarding it for hormones.

After all, she was pregnant with Hoggle's baby. A strange thought, to say the least as Lesera had been so infatuated with Sir Didymus, that the thought of such a notion ever occurring was ridiculous. How the two had come to be together was a rather strange tale; it involved- as he recalled- Hoggle saving Lesera from a gang of rather malicious goblins, none of whom seemed to expect the dwarf to have so much rage inside of him.

Her clawed hands wavered protectively over the bump, longing to caress it, until Lesera removed her gaze from the floor and asked," What on earth do you think you are doing?"

"Nothing at all," he frowned, "I don't believe you're in the right position to be questioning what it is I, the _King_, do in my spare time! Lesera, we have talked about this time and time again and if you confront me about this once more, I have the right mind to-"

"I never thought that the King of the Goblins would stoop _so_ low," she tutted, taking one step back. Lesera chuckled at the king's snarl, a defiant gleam in her eyes as she knew he could do no her no harm- not physically, anyway, but he could use words.

He paused, considering her words. What did she mean by that? He could do as he liked, and no goblin or uncle could boss him about. He w_as _the king and had more power than any of his snivelling, dirty subjects.

He looked down at Lesera, frowning at the thought of Sarah throwing a vase at his head like she'd once threatened to. _Then again, maybe some things are better left unsaid; _he bitterly discarded the idea of the insult tugging at his lips.

"So, yer Majesty, when were yer ever thinkin' of telling Lesera and I about yer little crush on Sarah?"

Jareth wrinkled his nose up at the repugnant smell; mouldy oats, mud, boggy water and excrement. He fought against the compulsion, like he did many a time, to order Hoggle back to his rotten throne. The king could not be nasty to anyone for a week, which was the result of losing a bet with Sarah.

"Ah, Hogglewart,"

"_Hoggle!"_

"Hoggle," he paused, wondering if he could risk the verbal attack from Sarah, before sneering, "I always smell you before I see you. And what a _repulsive _smell! Lesera, how on earth could you love such an ugly little creature?!"

This was obviously not a good move, however Jareth learned this a little too late, after a rock was thrown at his head, and he was sent roaring to the balcony. His nostrils flared, his eyes flashed with fury and Jareth clenched the railing with white knuckles, shouting, "How _dare _you strike _your King_!"

"Well…..I-I," Sarah stammered, freezing at the sound of his tone. She dropped the rock she was holding behind her back, all merriment and laughter forgotten from before, for she feared this voice. This was the tone of voice he used during that unpleasant ordeal in which Taveon caused his reckless and violent behaviour- yes, she knew this voice would mean nothing but verbal spew, but it still frightened her.

_Bring him back round! Look at him. Look at him and smile, show him kindness. His short temper is because he wants to tell you something, he just can't bring himself to do it. If you don't bring him back he'll be like this for days- weeks, even- and goodness knows how I'll survive another weird week of him avoiding me. _

She took a deep breath, ignoring the sounds of Lesera's grumbling, or Hoggle pleading with his angry wife. She looked up at Jareth, a defiant gleam in her eyes, before asking him gently, "Why do you have to shout? I'm not doing anything wrong." When he did not return anything- not an emotion, or even a smile, she closed her eyes tight and sighed, "Jareth, I didn't expect my aim to actually reach you. I'm sorry."

"I did not mean to shout, Sarah." Yes, he was reluctant to apologise, but for the sake of Sarah he could.

Her eyes widened. When she look upon his face, it had calmed considerably; he was no longer full of ire, but gentle and only a slight hint of anger was left. She took a few steps closer to the balcony, looking up at his face, saying, "Jareth, I'm just curious as to why you're being so secretive. I could hear Lesera telling you off for something, then the next thing I know you're giving Hoggle a hard time- which, by the way, breaks the promise you made!"

"She's right, yer know."

Lesera stepped forward, nodding. She placed a protective claw around her husband's shoulder, causing Jareth to want to retch. The idea of those two together, _breeding, _caused him to gag. He wondered if he should have made a law against it.

"Yep," Lesera smiled tenderly at Hoggle, giggling like a schoolgirl. "I think you owe Sarah whatever she wants- especially if you don't want me to tell her about your little secret!"

Her wink was enough to send Jareth over the edge, let alone the threat she had made. He brought a hand to the lump on his head, wincing all the while, before shaking it.

"I don't think a threat from _you _is going to have any effect," he laughed, "What are you going to do, bite my ankles?"

Lesera glared. She glared daggers and folded her arms across her chest. A look of defiance gleamed in her eyes as she tilted her chin upwards, gleefully saying, "I don't think you heard me, my King. I mentioned telling a certain someone about a little secret."

"Oh! Would that be the one where he watches-"

"Enough!" Jareth shouted, lifting Hoggle by the scruff of his neck. He peered into the goblin's face, retching at the overwhelming smell. "I'm sure you'd like to stay _living _with your wife?"

"Oh, yer!" Hoggle nodded. "Of course, yer majesty. Did I ever say anything?" he asked, flailing as Jareth placed him beside Lesera. "I don't recall ever saying anything. If I did, it would have been a-a complete lie! I'm a liar!" He threw himself on the floor.

"Well, what the heck have you been doing to these poor goblins?"

Jareth looked up to find Sarah leaning against the balcony doors, smiling, seemingly unaffected by his behaviour. Her long brown tresses were curly and hung over her shoulders, her eyes gleamed in the sunlight, and she looked fragile, almost as if she were a doll. Jareth decided he needed to let her train with the sword; initially he had forbidden it, told her that she would hurt herself and that he wasn't having her put at risk, but he decided now that it would be better for her to know some sort of defence.

She raised her eyebrows and looked him up and down, asking, "What's wrong? Do I have something on my face?"

Lesera scowled at the king, unhappy with his childish behaviour. "No," she told Sarah, helping Hoggle up from the floor. "The king just likes to look at you, is all."

"I'm not some sort of trophy, you know."

"Yes, I do, Sarah," Jareth frowned, clenching his fist. He pierced her with his mismatched eyes, growling a low," You mustn't worry, and neither should Lesera."

"Good," Lesera smiled, clapping her claws together. She turned on her heels, addressing Sarah with a smile, before saying, "I think Hoggle and I should leave you two alone. We've got to go shopping."

Hoggle screeched at Lesera's words, sounds that caused birds to flee in fright and Jareth to groan in despair. He was dragged by his feet out of the room, screaming," Yer not gonna make me! I can't stand shopping, Lesera!"

"Come on now, you great big lummox!"

Lesera could be heard telling Hoggle off all the way down the hall, causing a bit of a stir with some of the goblin servants and guards, who took it upon themselves to help the pregnant Lesera and drag a kicking and screaming Hoggle to his doom.

"Well…" Sarah paused, her eyes flitting about the room.

She had never been in it before, yet it seemed somewhat familiar. It was more decadent than most of the other rooms; the ceilings were adorned with gold chandeliers, and, on the wall by the ivory piano, was a portrait of a woman.

The portrait's resemblance to Sarah was uncanny, and suggested that it was her- well, that or Sarah had a doppelganger. But as she walked closer towards it, she noticed the youthfulness of the portrait; baby curls hanging by her earlobes, pale, unblemished skin and the same bright, sparkling eyes. Her cheeks were chubbier, rosier, and it made her shudder. What was this room?

"Jareth, is this me?" She didn't turn- she didn't have to, for Jareth was by her side in seconds, peering up at the portrait with empty eyes. He had his mask on, a face full of resignation.

_Why won't he answer me? Surely it is me, because it looks so alike…unless…..did he? _

She turned to him, her eyes widening.

_Had there been another? _

She could not stop the crushing, sickening feeling that settled in her stomach. Her heart felt as if it were to burst through her rib cage, as if it was bursting with thoughts on the notion. She could feel s_omething _bubbling up inside of her. What was it- Jealousy, or covetousness?


	2. Chapter 2: There has only been one

**NOTICE: THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED. 27/06/2013**

**A/N: I am so very sorry for not updating yesterday! **

**Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you are all well.**

**-Louise**

"Jareth, is this me?" She didn't turn- she didn't have to, for Jareth was by her side in seconds, peering up at the portrait with empty eyes. He had his mask on, a face full of resignation.

_Why won't he answer me? Surely it is me, because it looks so alike…unless…..did he?_

She turned to him, her eyes widening.

_Had there been another?_

She could not stop the crushing, sickening feeling that settled in her stomach. Her heart felt as if it were to burst through her rib cage, as if it was bursting with thoughts on the notion. She could feel something bubbling up inside of her. What was it- Jealousy, or covetousness?

Jareth stood, emotionless, staring up at the portrait. His mismatched eyes, once gleaming and burning with ardour were blank, devoid of emotion. It was a mirror to his heart; a heart which was once full of passion for ruling. He no longer had the same enthusiasm; it had been Sarah who had sucked the energy out of him.

"Did you fall in love with-", she paused, "Did you, um, fall in love with-"

He turned, puzzled by her question at first, before turning back to face the portrait. He looked upon it with pensive eyes, asking, "What is it you mean to ask, Sarah?"

Gulping, she clenched her fists and stared at the floor. She always stared at the floor when awkwardness ensued; it was her way of stopping herself from becoming nervous, from shaking and doing or saying something utterly spontaneous.

"Did you ever fall in love with someone who looked like me?" she asked. She turned to look at him, grimacing as she expected to come face to face with a glare, but instead she found Jareth still staring at the wall, nonchalant.

It took a while for what Sarah had actually said to process in his mind and, when it eventually did, his eyes widened and he murmured a low, saddened, "There has only been one," before turning on his heels and striding from the room.

Sarah was left alone in the room. She was left with her thoughts; maddening, irritating, saddening thoughts that twisted and gathered inside of her mind, telling her to find out more, to never stop searching for the right answer. Sarah already knew the answer- she just never let herself believe it.

If you were given the clues to something that seemed as impossible as this- the Goblin King, who once swore to you that he no longer loved you, and would never love you- then the possibility of something ever happening was pretty rare. It just couldn't happen, right? So why on earth was the Goblin King still infatuated with her? He longed for her, wanted her, but Sarah had once told him he wouldn't have her, so this was _impossible. _There was one, yes, but surely it couldn't be her?

Sarah shook her head, her own obliviousness infuriating her. She glanced up at the portrait one final time, before walking through the magnificent ivory doors and into the cold, bleak hallway.

_Fits my mood perfectly, Sarah reflected. One minute I was happy, my heart warm and full of joy, and now I'm hacked off- annoyed with myself and Jareth, for reasons so obvious. Why can't I just pay more attention to these things? I am sick of riddles; they're just pointless, a waste of time. Besides, I did more than my fair share of riddles when I had to rescue Toby from this damn place. _

She paused. Was it really that important? Was finding out if Jareth's love for her was true more important than her own family? Sarah fell back against the stone wall, her body shuddering as she began to well up.

Jareth had tried everything; he tried to erase them from her memory, but Sarah put a stop to that, for she did not want to forget them entirely- despite the fact that they no longer knew she existed, she still had to hold on to their memory. He had also tried keeping her occupied, teaching her to ride horses and other fruitless things. The things he did worked whilst she was participating in them, but the aftermath was disconcerting. Sarah was grateful for him trying, but his actions seemed to be a futile attempt to get her to stay, to be happy, even when he knew he could never replace the longing she would fill for her family. She may not have made it known, but Sarah always held them in her heart. When she slept, her thoughts were of them- and rarely Jareth.

She hugged herself, racing back to her room. She knew not what thoughts would consume her tonight, but she hoped that they would be something nice. Sarah was sick of her aching heart.

Jareth's heart ached. It ached for Sarah; he longed for her and, as pathetic as he felt, loved her. There was something he found discomforting about her approach to him, how casual and friendly it was, as if they weren't allowed to be anything more than friends. How could he live forever, knowing that it might have been, but not allowed simply because he was too scared to ruin their friendship? They had forever. Both hearts were aching.

Was there something he could do to provide her with some sort of comfort? As he looked upon her face now, as she ran down the corridor trying not to weep, he pondered if there was some way to stop her from hurting. If they were both suffering from heartache, couldn't they mend one another? Jareth hissed, hurtling his glass ball through the air.

It hit the wall opposite him, shattering against the brick wall, echoes of Sara's woe filling his ears. He brought his fist down onto his throne with an almighty whack, and screamed with sheer anger. Was this who he had become, a feeble-minded king who was withering away because he loved a mortal?

He couldn't stand for it. He had no heirs, no proper order in this kingdom and he was going to suffer for it. The Fae council knew that, his uncle knew that, and even his dead father was probably turning in his grave. How could he have been such a failure to them? He would not stand for it. Order had to be returned to the Goblin kingdom- one way or another.


	3. Chapter 3: You're not alone

Having dinner together had become a daily ritual for Sarah and Jareth, so when Jareth didn't walk through the ivory doors at six o'clock, Sarah began to suspect that he wasn't going to turn up. He was either five minutes early or dead on time, and in this case he was neither, so Sarah sat and waited for the king. She couldn't risk starting without him.

"Do you have any idea where he is?" she asked a passing goblin.

The goblin peered up at her with tired eyes and shook its head, murmuring a quiet, "No, Miss Williams."

Sarah frowned, folding her arms across her chest. She had a quick glance at the clock and, clacking her teeth together, pushed up from the velvet-cushioned chair and looked on at the array of beautiful dishes that lay ahead of her.

Of course, just the smell of them was enough to make her mouth water, but Sarah shook her head. There was no time for eating dessert- oh no, not when Jareth was missing from dinner. As the evening routine was never disrupted, Sarah came to think of it as some sort of calamity- without Jareth in the dinner hall, the goblins would run riot; plates would be thrown, food would be aimed at her head, and the goblins would make Sarah tear her hair out. She couldn't risk him not being there and for some other reason, she wanted him there. Perhaps it was because Sarah had grown accustomed to seeing him across the table from her, smirking, barely eating.

_If I were a sulking Goblin King, who was currently acting like a lonesome fool, where would I go? Which place would I seek comfort, to forget my troubles and everything that this dreary castle causes? _

She paused as she reached the middle of the hallway. Clenching her fists, standing rigid and strong, she closed her eyes as Jareth's words rang in her ears: "_If you ever need me- truly desire my presence, or are in grave danger, close your eyes and wish hard for me. If you are in the castle, then it will help you to find me, Sarah. If you are outside, then simply whisper my name. I will appear."_

"I need you, Jareth," she muttered, squeezing her closed eyes tight. She bit her lip as she repeated the words a few further times, until a gust of wind blew in her face and she felt it was the right time to open her eyes.

Slowly, with great caution, she gingerly reached out and felt the air, until a gilded doorknob stopped her in her tracks, and she twisted it, opening her eyes as the cold metal hissed under her touch. The door was different to the others; it wasn't magnificent, held no significance, and surprised Sarah. She had expected some sort of extravagance, but it was nothing but a boring door.

Inside the darkened room a lamp turned on. Jareth raised his head from the arm of the chair, his eyes scanning in the dark until he saw the outline of Sarah's form through his fuzzy eyes. He blinked twice, surprised that she had called upon him, but feeling slightly proud because she had actually _listened _to him for once.

"Sarah?" he lazily drawled, languidly stretching across the armchair.

Sarah gulped, before nodding and walking over to where the King was lounging. He had a snide look on his face, as if he were laughing at her for needing him- which was, of course, the complete opposite to how he was feeling. Jareth was proud of his Sarah.

"Come," he smiled, sitting upright on the chair. He beckoned her with a gloved finger, patting the space beside him, saying, "Join me, Sarah. Why don't we speak for a while?"

She cocked her head to one side, silently studying his features. They look spectacular in the glow of the lamp; his smile gleamed in the light, and his mismatched eyes seemed strangely alluring- but Sarah had to stop those sorts of thoughts because he was, after all, just a friend.

He regarded her with cold and calculating eyes, cocking his head to one side as he gently brought his hand to her wrist, before pulling her down beside him. He watched closely as she writhed a little, a smile plastering itself on his already gleaming face.

"Why didn't you turn up to dinner?"

Jareth chuckled, looking at the clock on the dusty brick wall.

"Sarah, it is but a few minutes past six o'clock, why do you grow so anxious? Granted I did not turn up before or exactly on time, but I'm afraid there will be times from now on that I will be late," he paused, passing her a small smile. "You must learn to dine without me for some nights, and on others I will be late- it is a part of being King, I am afraid."

Sarah did not understand. She watched him with a puzzled look on her face, asking, "Why on earth does being King affect any of this? It never has done before and," she hesitated, before saying, "Please turn up to dinner from now on, Jareth."

"Is this what you came here for? To ask me to dine with you?"

When Sarah meekly nodded, wringing her shirt with her hands, he threw back his head and laughed sardonically. The whole idea was absurd- absurd, yet wonderful at the same time. It meant she was bothered by his lack of presence, and that was something he thought he'd _never _hear.

Yes, there had been times after she had returned to the Aboveground years before Amelia was born when she would sit and wish for him to return, but they did not matter. Those years she spent trying to wish herself away, the days she cried for him to return- just for a glimpse of his white wings, that's all she needed- he knew were the feelings of a _girl_, _not_ a woman. Now she admitted she needed him, he knew it was real.

"Oh, how _sweet."_

Sarah's head snapped up. She glared daggers at Jareth, before whispering," I do not tolerate people mocking me, Jareth! You know I don't like that."

"I'm very flattered that you miss me- it means you don't despise me!" he laughed, snaking his arm around Sarah's shoulder.

"Yeah, well….I don't exactly like you, either!"

He feigned upset, wiping away fake tears. "Oh, it breaks my heart to know you _don't like me!" _He ignored the deathly look she was giving him and pressed a heard kiss to the top of her head, murmuring, "Sarah, I know you like me, you don't have to hide it."

"I don't," she hissed, relenting against his touch. His skin was suddenly ice cold, burning against her skin. She regretted ever finding him, saying those words. She stood from the chair. "I really cannot be bothered to play your little mind games, Jareth!"

"Now, now Sarah, so _sour!_" he chuckled, watching with slight dismay as she folded her arms across her chest, a defiant gleam in her bright eyes.

"What's up with you? Why can't you just accept that I might need you, but it's strictly because you keep me safe, okay! Ever since the whole thing with Taveon I've been tortured, haunted by nightmares and plagued by his taunts. I don't like being alone- not with my thoughts, Jareth. I cannot stand thinking about _them_."

Jareth watched as she began to sob hysterically, clenching her arms as she looked away from him, unable to look him in the eye, ashamed that she was crying. But Jareth understood her tears; they were not childish, they were _human. _She longed for a family who, essentially, no longer existed. He understood, and wrapped his arms around her.

Sarah relaxed into his touch, breathing in his scent. It was comforting to feel a gentle touch of his, and within a few moments, she was merely sniffing and blinking the rest of the tears away. He began to rock her, gently singing,

"_Oh no love! You're not alone_

_No matter what or who you've been_

_No matter when or where you've seen_

_All the knives seem to lacerate your brain_

_I've had my share, I'll help you with the pain_

_You're not alone"_

**A/N: I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist putting some lyrics from Mr Bowie's **_**'Rock 'n' Roll Suicide'!**_


	4. Chapter 4: It's for the best

**A/N: So, let's see what happens next. **

**Once again, thank you so much to everyone who is reading and reviewing. **

The feeling of his soft, strong arms was enough to soothe her. Along with the melodic trance of his voice, Sarah felt like she had died and gone to heaven. He had finally, somehow, managed to help her forget about her family for a few blissful moments.

"Jareth…" she muttered, looking up at him with weary eyes.

He tilted her chin upwards, meeting her eyes with his own, murmuring, "Yes, Sarah?"

"Thank you."

The words seemed to shake the Goblin King- as simple as they were. Moments ago she was taunted by him, loathing his every action, but now she was _thanking _him. Jareth was sure that this moment must have meant _something _between the two, but there was nothing that spoke of love in Sarah's bright eyes; no passion, no want, nothing. It was enough to make him wish he had never accepted her request all those years ago, to have denied her the choice of getting back Amelia. He could do neither of those things, however, for it would mean breaking rules, _regulations- _and Jareth was not fond of doing such. He ran his kingdom as proper as he could.

"Jareth, for goodness sake, say something!"

He looked down once more, a small smile tugging at his lips. The smile lasted but for a mere second, as it was not long before he had relaxed his arms around her, gently pushing away and stepping back. He would not look at her, ashamed of his longing.

"Jareth, please!" she whispered, her eyes narrowing. _Why won't he look at me? _She thought, biting her lip. _It unnerves me, makes me want to scream and tear my hair out. Why won't he answer me? _Sarah's eyes flitted about the room, taking in the rich red scenery, before stepping towards the King and saying," You have to say _something. _If I weren't to answer, you'd probably go off in a fit of rage or something, because that's what-"

"I _do?" _ he bitterly snapped, averting his eyes from her pale face.

"Well," she bit her lip, "Yes, you do, okay? And I'm sick and tired of this, Jareth. I want to be friends, but I know something isn't quite right- _something_ is stopping this friendship from being proper, and so help me if I ever find out the reason why, because you're just _so darn hard_ to read!"

Sarah took a few steps back, trembling. Her breath hitched as her eyes met with Jareth's mismatched ones, before she clenched her fists and ran from the room.

Jareth winced at the sound of the door stopping; his heart jumped in his ribcage as the sound echoed throughout the room, reminding him of how she always seemed to shut him out. Well, they were as bad as each other, granted- but Sarah was the one being so dismissive of her own feelings! He was more open, easier to read…well, he liked to think that. And how was he supposed to know if Sarah liked him or not? She stated many times that they were just friends, so Jareth kept his emotions minimal. He did not want to ruin the friendship, but perhaps Sarah was right about one thing: he wasn't easy to read.

Sighing, he sat down at his desk and began to pen a reply to his uncle Vaughn, who currently had two marriage proposals lined up for him- none of which appealed to Jareth, for Armenia was too dull, and Estella too prim and pretty. Jareth knew what he wanted in a Queen and unfortunately for them, they were nothing like Sarah.

Oh, how she compelled him so; she was like the fire and he, the moth, drawn to her light. It was absurd to think he had fallen for a mortal, for when he was younger he had sworn against doing such a thing, but Sarah was no _ordinary _mortal. She was the girl who had fought her way to the castle, who had taken back her brother and, in the end, defeated him. After he said what he thought was his final farewell on that night, Jareth suspected that she would grow up into a fine young woman; someone who would be adored, treated like a queen- but no, she was ignored, quoted to be too "weird and un-dateable". Did they know who they were talking about?

The letter was halfway done when a clock chimed nearby, causing Jareth to jog and screw up the piece of parchment in annoyance. He looked down at the crumpled mass of papers that lay on the desk and hissed. Why on earth would anyone want to marry into a fruitless marriage? He knew Estella was not pure, and that she was indeed with child- how could her father think he could trick Jareth? He was no fool, for sure. Yet, as he looked upon his scornful words, Jareth picked up a new piece of parchment and sighed.

He was a _king_, not some sort of tantrum-throwing child! He had _duties_ to attend to and as sick as he might feel responding to some requests, he decided it was important to be proper. After all, he had been running the kingdom well for many years, until _she _came. After that, proposals had been left unanswered, ball invites and dinner parties left unattended, and Jareth was somewhat disgusted with himself. How could he simply disregard them, for a mortal who didn't love him? Shaking his head, he began to pen invites to his upcoming ball- a new idea; one which he hoped would show the other kingdoms that he hadn't _entirely _lost his head. Besides, it would be rude to leave another proposal unanswered.

"Mylaela!" Sarah cried, slamming her door shut. She stormed over to her bed and began pulling a large suitcase from under it.

Mylaela came running from the bathroom, covered in soap and dirt. She was carrying a bundle of dripping wet rags, her little claws digging into them as she sensed Sarah was not in the best of moods today, which was a little strange, as Sarah was often calm and quiet around her.

Sarah had eventually pulled the suitcase onto her bed, before turning to the goblin. She caught sight of the soaking wet goblin, and felt a smile tugging at her lips, before asking, "What on earth have you been doing?"

"Well…." Mylaela paused, hoping that Sarah wouldn't need to use the bath for a while, because she had accidentally caused it to spring a leak and now the _entire _bathroom had flooded. So she stood, frowning slightly, "I have been cleaning the bathroom."

Sarah raised her eyebrows, before shrugging her shoulders, "Um, I think what you meant to say is that you flooded the bathroom, "she paused, noting that Mylaela had stopped breathing, and her eyes were now bulging. " HEY! Breathe, okay?"

Mylaela opened her mouth, taking a deep breath as she did so, before pointedly looking at the suitcase on Sarah's bed and asking, "What are you doing?"

"Oh, this?" Sarah asked, nodding towards the suitcase, "I need a holiday- well, strictly between you and me, but I think the king needs a little break from _me. _I'm driving him nuts…" She frowned, coyly scuffing her shoe on the polished floor.

"Mistress, you cannot leave the king."

Sarah shook her head. "I can and I will," she stated, beginning to gather up her clothes from the nearby wardrobe. She looked over each garment carefully, picking out the ones she'd be able to wear in the Aboveground, before packing them tightly into the case.

Mylaela watched with morbid fascination. She had never known _anyone _to defy the king, so why was this woman taking the situation so lightly? The goblin couldn't note any sort of stress or anguish, but if the girl did have any, she was hiding it pretty well.

"You're just going to leave, just like that?" the goblin asked, her eyes widening as Sarah shrugged on a coat.

The woman nodded, regarding the goblin with slightly weary eyes, as if she were expecting the Goblin King to come crashing through the doors at any moment, begging her not to go- well, more like ordering her, because Sarah knew the man would _never _beg.

"It's for the best, okay?"

Mylaela watched as Sarah casually strode from her room. She watched with horror, fear and sadness; who knew when she would return? And how on earth would she get there? The only way for Sarah to reach the Aboveground was to use the mirror, but Sarah couldn't know about that, only Hoggle-

The goblin shrieked, throwing her hands up in the air, "I'LL GET THAT LIL' BUGGER!"


	5. Chapter 5: A proposal

_Why oh why hadn't I thought of this sooner? I know I must be driving Jareth nuts- he's driving **me** nuts, so surely taking this little break would be good for the both of us…._

She stopped in her tracks. She was now halfway into the Labyrinth (she knew it well, especially because Hoggle and Jareth had taken the time to educate her) and could feel a tugging sort of sensation pulling her back. But going back wasn't an option, for she had made her mind and was sure that she'd never get this opportunity to leave every again.

_This isn't fun at all_ she frowned, trudging through some mud. She looked about in disarray; trees were drooping, _dying, _and Sarah couldn't quite work out why. If Jareth had told her that there was no such thing as seasons in the Labyrinth, then what was causing them to droop and die? Unless…

"Holy cow," she stopped dead in her tracks, dropping her suitcase with a thud. A cloud of dust puffed up, causing her to cough. Sarah spotted a nearby flower, drooping and colourless, before picking it up and sadly noting, "It's dying. Everything is dying, but why?"

"_I control the Labyrinth's weather, Sarah. It reacts to my emotions, copies them and warns those who dare to enter."_

"_What happens when you're sad, Jareth?" _

_He looked at her nonchalantly, murmuring a soft, "Things die."_

Sarah dropped the flower, before hauling her suitcase up from the floor. It was heavy because she had piled it with so much crap, but it was crap she needed- well, at least she thought she did. Sarah had been in a hurry to get out, and now she felt the sudden urge to run. Wasn't she just making things harder for Jareth? If things were dying, then it was surely a sign for her to get out, to let them both have a break. She owed Jareth that much.

"I am losing my mind!" she laughed, picking up her pace as she began heading towards Hoggle's old shack.

* * *

"King Jareth!"

The king looked up from his study, his features worn and tired. He had not slept properly for days, and he supposed it was going to be another one of those nights.

"Yes, what is it?" He narrowed his eyes at her, "Which goblin would you be? Are you Oleander, Sarah's cook, or Novus, her wash-lady?"

The goblin shook its head, uttering, "No, your majesty. I be Mylaela, Lesera's replacement until she has the babe."

"_Mylaela,"_ he repeated, the name sounding foreign on his tongue. This young goblin had not often spoke to him and looked very similar to the others, so confusion was rather inevitable. He peered down at her with his cold eyes, wondering why she had come to speak to him. Most of the goblins didn't like speaking to him, but this one seemed bold- almost as if something urgently required his attention. He sharply turned his head towards her, standing from the chair, "What on earth is the matter?"

"Mistress Sarah has taken it upon herself to give you a break, your majesty."

Jareth cocked his head to one side, not quite understanding. He raised his eyebrows, placing his hands on his hips as he tried to work out what it meant. "What do you mean by _giving me a break?"_

"Well, my king, she has decided to pay a little," she paused, "v-visit to the Aboveground."

Terror and anger brewed up inside of him, bubbling and boiling as he stood and regarded the goblin with hurt eyes. How could she leave him, or think of leaving him? Had he not provided her with everything her heart desired? He was tired; the Labyrinth was dying because he could no longer bear to take care of himself any more, purely because he was too busy trying to keep Sarah safe, to keep her happy and healthy.

Sighing, he brought a gloved hand up to his face and shuddered. "I think it is high time I went and had a little talk with her," he frowned, biting his lip behind his hand. Before turning to leave the goblin, he nodded in her direction, silently thanking her.

Mylaela thought, _he has only gone and thanked little old me! This'll be one to tell the children. _She followed Jareth out of the door, smiling all the while as she went to have a bath drawn up for Sarah. She doubted the woman would want one; she'd be a stubborn thing and deny it, but Mylaela thought it would be best to at least try.

After all, the Goblin King didn't seem best pleased with her.

* * *

"Sarah, do you dare defy me?"

Sarah stopped in her tracks, whirling around as she dropped her suitcase onto the doorstep of Hoggle's old shack. She shuddered as she felt a gloved hand on her shoulder, squeezing her.

"I-"she gulped, her eyes dropping to the floor. She clenched her fist, hanging her head low, before muttering an almost inaudible, "You needed a break from me, I know that. I was just trying to be…nice."

"Nice?" he repeated, stepping closer to Sarah. "Sarah, precious, you don't need to worry about that. You have been more than tolerable for me; in fact, you have been more than rather kind. I ought to repay you for your kindness."

She sniffed. Why was he being so calm? Surely he was truly feeling angry, surely he wanted to pick her up and carry her back to the castle, to lock her away from everyone and everything. But as Sarah turned and looked up into his sincere eyes, she blinked back her angry tears and sighed. He was a good man, truly he was, and she couldn't fathom why she always saw him as a horrible man.

"Sarah?" He spoke tenderly, removing his hand from her shoulder as he noted her face. He smiled as she picked her suitcase up and began to walk away from the door, even though she looked very reluctant.

_She is learning _he smiled. He followed behind her, watching over her closely, protecting her as he had always done. When she had left the Labyrinth he often took it upon himself to send Hoggle to check up on her, thus creating a magical mirror which allowed Hoggle to pass through their world, and into hers. He had the ugly little creature promise he'd never tell Sarah about the mirror- but, unfortunately for him, he had told her. The consequences would be serious, Jareth decided, as he had broken his king's rules and seemed to think he could walk around freely.

And then there was the matter of Sarah. What was he to do with the saddened woman who trudged slowly in front of him, dragging her feet through the dying grass and damp mud? She must have been bored, for she was so frequently left to her own devices, obviously feeling that she was restricted with things she had to do, that she couldn't talk to others. He had allowed her freedom, but hadn't set anything up for her, so Jareth decided to spare her the horrible thoughts, and decided he was going to appoint her his Châtelaine, which meant she would be assisting him with mundane tasks such a paperwork, money and proposals.

"Sarah, I have a proposal for you."

Her breath hitched, she inclined her head slightly, frowning at the word. "What do you mean by a proposal?"

"I require a Châtelaine; someone to help me with tasks such as paperwork, marriage proposals and such," he lazily waved his hand in the air, treating the request as if it were something casual. In all honesty, he was feeling all too serious about it.

Sarah gulped at the prospect of helping him out with marriage proposals, the idea of seeing Jareth with another woman, or being involved with another woman, caused her chest to tighten. She took a deep breath, before saying, "Alright, I suppose. It's better than being left alone with my thoughts."

"Precisely my thinking, precious," he smiled, a little surprised that she had accepted his request, but happy all the same. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in tight. "This position is a very serious one," he frowned, his voice serious. "I should like to think that you will work hard, and take this with great reverence."

She nodded, "Yes, I won't let you down."

_Well, I guess I'm never going to get back there, so I might as well keep myself busy. Who knows, perhaps this could be the beginning of something good? I feel quite optimistic, really-it's much better than just sitting around all day, feeling lonely. Sometimes I feel like I can't do anything, but I guess it's just because Jareth doesn't talk to me much. We spend time in the evening, so don't really see one another. Maybe this is going to help us become better people? You know, better friends? I'm okay with this; I'm going to be the best darn Châtelaine he's ever had!_

Jareth couldn't help but smile at the prospect of spending more time with Sarah. He had been too busy with paperwork and such before, that he had begun to neglect her. He felt full of remorse, despite knowing that they had forever- but did they? He paused, suddenly wondering why he hadn't even bothered to ask Sarah if she had felt different at all. But then he realised; she was not like him, unless they bonded and wedded, she would not live as long as him, she would die in a few years' time, leaving him all alone.

He tried not to smirk as he talked, "Sarah, we'll be working in separate studies- of course, but I'd like you to know that they will be adjoining, meaning you'll be able to reach me easily. I'll also have you moved to the room adjacent to mine, meaning yet again that we'll be seeing more of one another."

"Oh, thanks…" she ducked her head, trying to hide the sudden blush that spread across her cheeks. She frowned slightly, confused as to why she suddenly was acting like a giggly schoolgirl, before dropping the suitcase and wincing in pain.

"Here," the king smiled, waving his hand over where the suitcase once was. When it had disappeared, he turned back to Sarah and continued walking. "That's much better, precious. Now, what do you say to a bath? I do believe that Mylaela has drawn you one up."

She nodded, biting her lip. "Oh, that was nice of her. I definitely won't say no, your majesty. My legs kill!"

"Sarah, there is no need to address me as such when there are no other Fae or such around. I prefer to be called Jareth by you, purely because I feel comfortable with you."

"Alright, _Jareth," _she smirked, before wrapping her arms around herself and walking slightly faster towards the castle.


	6. Chapter 6: Why are we matching?

**A/N: Many Thanks to you wonderful people for reading.**

**Reviews are always welcome, and greatly appreciated.**

**(P.S. if there is anything you'd like to see happen in the story, just leave a comment or pm me.)**

**-Louise**

When Sarah had reached her room, she noticed how quickly Jareth had worked his magic. There was now a door leading to a new room where a blank white wall had once stood, and it was gilded with gold and carved from ivory. It was spectacular, and Sarah couldn't help but mechanically reach out to touch the doorknob.

"Those are my private quarters, Sarah."

She jumped, quickly whipping her hand away from the door and turning to face Jareth with a slightly feverish look on her surprised face. The woman gulped at the sight of him, drinking in his fine velvets and slightly ruffled hair.

He seemed to notice her staring, and felt the back of his neck heat up. _Dare I say I'm going to regret this? _He watched as Sarah slowly moved from his door, backing away towards her bathroom. She paused as she rested her hand on the door, before smiling shyly at Jareth. _I will never get any sleep with her next door, _he noted grimly, studying her face with slight annoyance.

_Oh cow, this is awkward. _Sarah bit her lip, an anguished moan escaping her lips as she watched Jareth's trademark smirk tug at his lips. She pushed gently on the door, her eyes firmly on Jareth as she pushed it open.

"You will not enter my room without permission, understand?"

Sarah nodded. "Alright, but what if it's an emergency?" she smirked, her eyes challenging him.

"Then I suppose you'll have to just come in," he frowned, "But only if it is _dire_, precious. I can't have you running in on me every five minutes. I am the king, and I need my privacy. I want you to respect that, as I have respected you."

She laughed aloud, folding her arms across her chest. "You respected me?" she scoffed, seemingly unimpressed by what he had said. She shook her head, tutting, "You sure have a strange way of respecting people's privacy."

Jareth inclined his head towards her. He regarded her with amused eyes, his smirk bigger than before. _My, I never thought she'd be willing to challenge me after today. Had I not upset her but a few moments ago, after declining her request to visit the Aboveground? _The king mentally shrugged, taking note of Sarah's feigned anger. _How lovely to see her being sarcastic again._

"I admit I have been watching you- perhaps a little more than I should, but it is all with good intentions. I do watch all my subjects, precious. It is only normal for a king to take an interest in what his subjects get up to."

"I knew it!" she shrieked, "I knew you had been watching me all this time! And what a load of crap you spilled, '_Oh Sarah, I would never invade your privacy'._" She glared at him one last time, before turning on her heels and haughtily walking into the bathroom.

_This ought to be interesting, _he thought as he watched Sarah slam the door shut. He stood still for a few moments more, unblinking, motionless, before shaking his head and entering his room with a throaty chuckle.

"Well," he laughed, "I can tell Sarah is going to enjoy seeing a lot more of me- I am quite sure of it."

* * *

It was morning and the beautiful sunlight spilled through her windows in pools of gold; Sarah sat bolt upright in her bed at the feeling of wind tugging against her bed sheets, which turned out to be because the windows were open. Shuddering, she climbed out of the bed and walked over towards the balcony, breathing in a sharp intake of air as the cold, crisp morning air hit her in the face.

It was sunny, yet cold, which could only mean one thing: Jareth was feeling happier, but certainly wasn't a morning person. This idea had been bubbling in her head for quite some time now, but she was definitely sure of it, for it could be the only explanation as to why this was, more or less, the same weather she experienced every morning.

Careful not to awaken Jareth from his slumber, Sarah gently closed the glass doors, before drawing the curtains to give herself some privacy for when she was changing. She was just about to lift her nightdress over her head, when a sudden clicking noise startled her, and caused her to stumble backwards.

"Terribly sorry, precious," Jareth purred, closing his door behind him. He smirked slightly at her dishevelled state on the floor, drinking in her panicked expression, before gently murmuring, "How did you sleep? I did not mean to intrude, by the way."

_You little liar! _Sarah felt like screaming, but instead she simply plucked her dressing gown from the dressing-screen and shrugged it on over her shoulders. She smiled blissfully as the marvellous fabric warmed her, stopping her shivers. However she could not help but notice the way Jareth was staring at her, licking his lips and watching her ecstasy intently.

"Is there something else you need?" she asked, "or do you have some more staring you'd like to do?" she added, bitterly.

Jareth merely laughed, draping himself in the pale blue chair. His eyes caught Sarah's- which were worn and tired- before he hung his head back and began to stare at the ceiling, unaware of Sarah's desire to get dressed.

"I need to get dressed."

"Very well, you have a screen over there- use it," he dryly remarked, waving his hand in that direction.

Sarah wanted to scream, to pick him up and push him from her room, but she knew there was no budging the king once he had himself settled. With much annoyance, she trudged over towards the screen, plainly stating, "I really don't like people being in the room when I'm undressing."

"Oh, really?" he asked, unfazed by her obvious attempt to get rid of him. "Neither do I. My, my Sarah, we do seem to have some common ground after all."

From behind the screen Sarah tore her nightgown off in a hurry, peeking round the side to check if the Goblin King was still seated, and not trying to take a look at her whilst she was dressing. He had already broken one promise to her- what was stopping him from breaking another?

Sarah frantically searched for an item of clothing- anything, anything at all to wear- but had no such luck, as she clenched her fists and bit her lip. "Jareth, I seem to have forgotten to get my clothes. Could you please bring me something to wear?" she asked, her tone pained.

"Of course," he smirked, "But what should I give dearest Sarah to wear?" He chuckled to himself, noting the little squeak that came from behind the screen. He ignored it, fingering all the fabrics in her wardrobe; the fine velvets, laces, wools, cottons- everything she had ever desired, he had given to her. Yet, he was not satisfied with any of his initial choices.

_For goodness sake! What is he doing out there? Seriously, he must hurry up, for I am freezing to death over here. He may be a slow mover in the morning, but it cannot take that long for someone to pick out a damn dress, right? Unless…._

She paused, her eyes widening as she whimpered at the notion of Jareth touching her undergarments. Sudden panic spread throughout her body, and it took almost all her strength not to run out from behind the screen just to check. Sarah did, however, stay behind the screen; waiting feverishly as the king could be heard humming a tune under his breath.

Then suddenly, and without warning, Jareth threw a new garment at her. It was different and, more to the point, was a dress. Yet it was still beautiful; it was a shade of pale blue, adorned with little pears along the bodice, and had beautiful, regal sleeves that she was sure trailed along the floor. As she slipped the garment on, she couldn't help but notice it was the same shade as Jareth's attire. Blushing, she stepped out from the screen.

"Sarah….." the king rasped, his eyes widening as she came into view. He inclined his head to one side, shuffling forward in his seat so that he could get a better look at her. His gloved hands (notably white) covered his mouth- and the coy smile that was presently tugging at his lips.

She was a vision, and he hadn't expected her to look so good. But here they were, _a matching pair, _he reflected dryly, smirking all the while. He noted how her confidence had shrunk when she had stepped out from behind the screen, something he put down to nerves. It was, after all, her big day as his Châtelaine.

"Oh," she huffed, "We're matching."

"Yes, very well done Sarah. Don't you like it? It took me quite some time to think it up."

She laughed sardonically, narrowing her eyes. "Good to know you weren't fondling my bras," Sarah remarked, placing her hands on her hips.

"Oh? Fondling your undergarments?" he smiled at the notion, rising to his feet. He stepped towards her, staring at her closely as she writhed under his gaze. "Why Sarah, precious, I would never do that to you- at least, not without your permission."

"That's sly, and undoubtedly disturbing. Get out."

"Since when did I take commands from you?" he asked, striding towards her, before placing a tentative hand on her shoulder.

Sarah seemed shocked at the gentle touch; she normally looked at him as if he were about to bite her or something, but for once her angered features softened, and Jareth was surprised to find Sarah averting her eyes. It was as if she was frightened of what she would do if she looked at him.

"Sarah?"

"Can I just ask you one thing?" She whipped her head up, shrugged his hand away and bit into her tongue. "Why are we matching?"

"Oh! So suspicious," he laughed, "But I am afraid you will have to work that one out for yourself, precious."

And with one, fleeting bow, Jareth disappeared into a cloud of smoke and glitter.

"How am I supposed to know? You're probably just treating me like some sort of puppet, you darn glitter king."


	7. Chapter 7: Always the suspicion

**A/N: I nearly forgot to write this chapter in all my excitement!**

**In just a few days' time, I'll be going up to London to visit the David Bowie exhibit at the V&A- words cannot describe how happy I am!**

**Also, feel free to leave a review. I'd like to know if my writing is getting any better. :D**

**-Louise**

When she entered the dining hall with little happiness, Sarah couldn't help but note how Jareth was staring at her in a way most peculiar. His eyes seemed to follow her as she sat, and Sarah found herself shuddering. The whole thing was rather unnerving in light of all previous conversations. She never had liked to be looked at by someone- whether it be her own mother, or a boy she once fancied- for it made her uncomfortable. And Jareth was doing just that.

He sat as regal and composed as always; his gloved hands delicately resting under his chin, his posture straight and alert, his eyes sharp, unmoving. It was a beautiful sight, yet Sarah still detested his contemplative stare.

"I thought you'd never turn up," he dryly remarked, delicately arching his eyebrow.

She seemed to ignore his remark, looking straight at her food and observing the plate was full of fruit. She idly stabbed a piece of melon with her fork, scowling as it slid off before she could stuff it in her mouth.

Jareth watched with mild exasperation. He made a mental note to have one of his teachers of etiquette teach her the basics- she was, after all, going to be appearing at many more of his banquets, and would even be given a place at the high table.

He took care of how to speak to her, murmuring, "I think your table manners may need some refining, precious."

"Oh, really?" Sarah asked, speaking with her mouth full. She tried to make sure Jareth at least got a view of some of her food, what she liked to call 'payback' for causing her distress.

_She's clearly trying to get on my nerves, _he observed. _And, unfortunately for her, it not working as she would have hoped, for I am not perturbed by this behaviour in the slightest- merely disgusted, is all. Sarah is behaving like an animal and all for the sake of a little fun this morning._

"I am fiercely compelled to have you removed from my presence," he frowned, "_But, _I will not give you that satisfaction. Sarah, do you take me for a fool? No? Then please, do stop making a fool of yourself and eat normally- it does not do any good for your image, and I'd hate for that to be tarnished before we've even had you make an appearance in public."

Sarah rolled her eyes. She had no intentions of complying with the king, for she was rather tired of having to follow him around like a lost puppy. Sighing, she put her fork down and began to tear apart the grapes, popping each one into her mouth with certain delicacy.

"Sarah,"

She did not answer, simply kept her eyes on her plate and drank in the sight of the beautiful colours; the yellows, the oranges, the greens and reds. A nice way to start the day, yet there was something unsavoury about her company.

"Sarah!" his voice came as a warning, his eyes flashing as he regarded her with slight ire.

"What is it now?"

"What do you think?" he asked, his hand tapping against the oak table.

Sarah regarded the king with uncertain eyes. If she pushed him too far, he'd leave, and for some weird reason she couldn't fathom, she didn't want that. She would much prefer it if he stayed. Then, at least, she wouldn't have to be alone with her dreaded thoughts.

Looking slightly apologetic, she wiped her mouth with the napkin and sighed, "I'm sorry, Jareth. I did not mean to push you."

"Good. Very well done, precious," he smiled mockingly. The compulsion to make a scathing remark caused his lips to twitch, but Jareth kept them pursed together; unmoving, unwilling to say anything to offend, he simply remained quiet, eyes scanning over her slightly slumped form.

And why wouldn't she be slumping? He had been rude to her, had walked in on her purposely as she tried to change. Yes, her willingness to even be near him was rather remarkable- yet, Jareth felt as if she wasn't as willing as she was making herself seem. Something inside him told him that she wished to dine with the goblins, as he knew their company was more favourable. It was maddening. It was tiring. It was something Jareth loathed, for all he wanted was for Sarah to accept him for whom he was; as arrogant and haughty as he could be, he had good intentions. If only she knew the amount of times he had helped her, had protected her. He watched over her tirelessly devoting his precious time, when he could have been devoting his time to rebuilding the goblin kingdom and his allies with the other kingdoms.

It was oft spoken of how the stoic king, who was usually cold and rigid, had gone mad over the presence of a mere mortal. It was gossip, pure delicacy to the ears of his enemies- and lord knew he wasn't short of those.

Sarah was contemplating. She was contemplating what would happen if she pushed him far enough- but she didn't dare to find out. Her time in the Labyrinth had, so far, been peaceful. If she forgot about the few rows she and Jareth had whenever they rarely spoke, he had actually been rather kind towards her. He had provided her with a lot…

Suddenly the fruit didn't taste as sweet, but sourer. Sarah swallowed the remaining watermelon, before deftly dabbing the corners of her mouth with the napkin.

Jareth seemed to notice this move and tensed, fearing that she was about to take her leave. Not wanting to leave her in absolute silence, he smiled. "Feeling full? You haven't eaten much, but I suppose I cannot force you to eat any more," he chuckled, "Thinking, are we?"

"Yeah, actually I am," she frowned in thought, carefully choosing her words.

He watched as her deft fingers nimbly folded the tissue into the shape of a bird- a swan- and his sharp eyes widened in amusement, the corners of his mouth tugging with the urge to laugh.

She paused, "What?" before whipping her hands away from the napkin. She awkwardly began to chew her lip, a habit of hers, eyes flitting about the room to find anything but Jareth to look at.

"What are you doing?" he purred, "I'm just curious, Sarah. Is this some strange mortal custom of yours?"

She snorted, "Ha! Seriously, I can't believe you actually asked that!"

"What?" he sank back into his chair. His tone was cold.

"Well," she explained, "It's called 'Origami'. It's basically a form of art- folding pieces of paper into weird and wonderful shapes!" She grinned, twirling the swan in her fingers. "You should give it a go."

"How did you learn it?" he asked. He was, knowingly, trying to change the subject. He didn't fancy having to spend hours getting frustrated over a piece of paper- he did that unwillingly enough every day, pouring over marriage proposals and such.

Sarah pouted, somewhat feigning her disappointment. It would have been nice to spend some _fun_ time with Jareth and, more to the point, she really wanted to see him getting all het up about a piece of paper- origami was, she had decided, not very easy to learn.

"Oh well," she shrugged, "I guess we'll be getting to our duties soon enough."

Jareth nodded, slyly smiling as he draped him arm over the back of his chair. He never expected them to just sit and file through paperwork all day- oh no, they were going to be spending more time with one another.

"We'll be doing other things, precious."

She raised her eyebrow. "Oh, really?" she smiled, "I think I quite like the idea of that. But I'm not being dragged along to any mundane meetings, okay?"

Jareth opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted when a man with his black hair tied up in a ponytail entered, bowing and trying to hastily make his leave once he noticed his king had not yet finished breakfast.

"Dalyor," Jareth held out his hand, stopping the fae from making any more movement. He nodded and gestured to him, beckoning him to come in. "Do not fear my morning wrath," he jested, "I am in quite the mood this morning. However if there is any bad news, or something I may not wish to hear, simply back out of the door and leave your bad news for later."

"My king," Dalyor bowed, his eyes widening with surprise. How often had he seen Jareth in a good mood during the morning? It had only been once or twice, he was sure of it. This rareness of the occasion was something to behold, he noted. Jareth was a rather unpredictable king; unbalanced with his emotions, and despairingly outspoken. He would relish this good mood for as long as he could, but _never _use it to his advantage.

Dalyor was one of Jareth's most loyal acquaintances. Despite being a troubled youth in his past, Dalyor had managed to turn his life around- and he owed it all to Jareth who had, willingly, taken him in and straightened him out. At first he thought he was a mere project, something for Jareth to do when he was bored, yet this was not the case. He was a protégé- someone Jareth intended to use in case no child was born, and there was no other to step into his role.

Although he noticed that the mortal was back, which meant a babe could be in the picture soon. He had no problem with that for Jareth was a close friend of his, but there was a slight twinge of jealousy that brewed up inside of him, causing him to unwittingly scowl at Sarah.

"Dalyor?"

"My king!" the fae jumped, "My sincere apologies, lady Williams. If I did make a face at you, I fear it was simply an accident. May I get you anything, my lady? I fear we have started on the wrong foot."

Instead of letting Sarah speak for herself, Jareth answered for her. He brought his hand up to silence Dalyor, disappointment evident in his face as he remarked, "How rude of you, Dalyor. I had expected better from you." Cocking his head to one side, Jareth asked, "Is that how you will treat our guests at the upcoming ball? Or perhaps when you are king?"

_King, _Sarah noted, fretting silently to herself. _Why would Jareth pick another to be next in-line to the throne? I don't understand. Surely he has other family? _She looked across at the king, studying his features intently. He was unaware of her deep stare, too busy with threatening Dalyor.

"-Nevertheless," Jareth continued -Sarah had only just snapped out of her trance, so didn't get to hear the whole of it-, "I thank you for your concern. You may leave."

"Of course, your majesty," he bowed to Jareth, "My lady."

"What a real charmer!" Sarah sarcastically remarked. She pulled herself up and off of the chair, before pulling on her messy locks. She looked at them dubiously, wondering if she should have brushed them or something.

"I see you are rather enthusiastic, precious."

She nodded, "Yeah, I am. I really don't fancy doing that stuff all day, so the sooner we start- the better."

"I agree wholly," he extended his arm, smiling as she took it. "Shall we?"

* * *

"Jareth, I've got it!"

She came bursting through the doors in a flurry of excitement; she had papers bundled under her arm, pens sticking out from her hair, and her tresses were notably unruly. He wasn't quite sure how she managed it, but she still looked absolutely ravishing- and he also couldn't help but pry at the cleavage that revealed itself as she bent over his desk, prattling on about her new idea.

Oh, how despicable it was of him to look! But the sight was, he had to admit, rather delicious. Her milky white neck just begged to be kissed, and Jareth couldn't help but mentally curse himself for nearly stroking it. He had to keep himself composed. If he made any sort of move or sign just yet, he would scare her away. He was just going to have to ignore the pure beauty of her body, and rather admire it from afar if he did have to admire it at all.

"So for the ball I was thinking a winter theme; crystal chandeliers, trees covered in snow- the people, they'd wear white and pale blue. The music would be soft and gentle, just like the snow that falls in winter. But my main issue is getting it to snow, Jareth. How on earth could you get the Labyrinth to snow? There isn't an emotion for snow."

"Fear not," he grinned, "I can simply ask."

She raised her eyebrow, before plonking herself down on the seat next to him. Sighing, she pointed to the window and said, "You simply just ask it to snow, and it does that?"

"Do you disbelieve me, precious? I will make it snow for you. Whatever you desire, I will give to you." He chuckled at the look on her face; she seemed happy, and it was beautiful.

"Really?" she threw her arms around him, any previous problems forgotten.

Jareth responded as any king who was in love with a mortal would- he simply remained rigid, hiding his emotion with a mask of resignation. He did not respond until Sarah began to pull away; he wrapped his arm around her, pushing her to his chest.

Sarah breathed in happily, before the sheer realisation of what had just happened hit her. Writhing, she pushed herself from his lap, before standing at the other side of the desk, ready to further her plans for the ball.

And as if nothing had happened, Sarah resumed with a blank face, "I also think it would be a good idea to invite those who had sent you marriage…proposals." She spoke the last line quickly, ashamed of her bashfulness, trying to hide herself.

"Once we have sorted the matter of your marriage to a suitable lady, I think we will begin to speak of preparing you for a child- anyway, that is far off in the future," she grimaced, "What was I saying? Ah- yes, I think the goblins should be taught how to cook new dishes, perhaps themed ones? We need to make sure all the visiting guests have the best visit possible, so we need to start furnishing all the rooms. I know they'll all have their acquired tastes- different ideas on luxury and stuff, but we cannot spend too much time thinking about accommodation-"

"Sarah, calm yourself!" He simply held out his hand, his lips itching to smile, but forbidden to do so.

"Alright," she seemed to shrink, "Sorry about that. I tend to get a little carried away."

"You don't say," Jareth laughed.

They stood in awkward silence for but a few moments, until Jareth gently laced his fingers around her wrist and tenderly told her, "You are doing a marvellous job, precious."

"I-I," she gulped, unsure of how to react. When he skin touched hers, she felt electrifying; his skin was soft and beautiful, pure delight. She smile wanly, before hanging her head low and muttering an almost inaudible, "Thank you for this."

"How about we do something?"

She raised her head, narrowing her eyes with slight suspicion.

"Ah," he looked hurt, "Always the suspicion."

"No, it's okay. We can go," she warmly replied, her smile never faltering.


	8. Chapter 8: Insufferable

**A/N: Excentricaluli, the V&A is short for the Victoria and Albert museum, which is hosting the 'David Bowie is…' exhibit. **

**Thanks for reading! **

**-Louise**

"The sun is shining."

Jareth gently removed his gloved hand from her elbow, careful not to look her in the eyes. He noted the look of thought that had nestled itself nicely on her face.

"Yes," he duly replied, "It is shining. Rather bright."

"Then it means you're happy," she laughed, looking as if she had just hit the jackpot.

He looked at her with slight confusion, not sure as to why she was looking like she had just scaled the largest mountain in the history of the universe. Surely his happiness was merely fact to her? _Then why_, he frowned, _does she look pleased with herself. Were her intentions to make me happy? For if those are her intentions, the sun could be shining more frequently in the Labyrinth!_

Sarah shook her head, studiously watching the way Jareth regarded her with his mismatched eyes. He seemed…different, to say the least. His cold exterior wasn't up, no longer protecting his stoic and ill temper. It was almost as if she was making him do that, like he did not need to hide from her questions, her queries. If he did not have to hide, then surely that meant they were getting closer to developing a proper friendship?

But the features on his face hardened once more, the mask reappearing to ensure that he did not give too much of himself away. If he gave away too much it wouldn't mean as much to her- or, at least he thought. Sarah would miss that tender, bittersweet moment for days to come; it was a change from his usual cold-heartedness, his frosty exterior.

The silence was all too much for Jareth, who frowned in that recurrent way of his. "Precious, is there something you wish to say?"

Sarah bit her lip, stumbling on her words, "I-I, nothing. There is nothing wrong, Jareth. I'm just tired, is all."

"Tell the truth. Be honest."

"I'm tired," she offered, "That is me being honest, I am tired, and that is all there is to it."

She was, of course, lying through her teeth, but however hard she might try, she still found herself bitterly disappointed when Jareth delicately arched his eyebrow, coolly saying, "I am most offended by this prospect, Sarah. You are not able to tell me the truth, which is rather disappointing. I expected better from you."

"I am _very _honest with you!" she frowned, her voice almost a low growl. She fought the compulsion to throw her hands up in the air and scream.

"Do you think me stupid, Sarah?"

_Sarah, always Sarah when he's angry! I'm never precious to him when I 'defy' him, when I speak against his wishes, when I don't do as he always says. I'm working hard to keep this relationship- if you can call it that- and all he does it let his bad temper get in the way of things! _

Sighing, she knew she shouldn't push him. Provoking him seemed to get them nowhere; it made for awkward evenings, and days of avoiding one another. They had been in such a situation once before, and Sarah, quite honestly, hated every moment of it. It was so silent, so alone. She couldn't bear for it to end up that way, but at the same time she was angry, and wanted him to stop ordering her around.

"Tell me right now, or let it fester in that brain of yours!" he continued, "I can go now, if you'd like. Would that make things better for you, Sarah? Your problem is that you are far too equivocated- always trying to conceal your emotions, when I know all too well that somewhere, _somewhere _in that mortal brain and soul of yours, there is some sort of amity."

"I'll be damned if I ever have to spend another moment with you, Jareth! Yes," she held up her hand, forcing him to shut up, "I am angry, and sick and tired of being here. I cannot fathom why I try to build up a friendship between us two, because it is clearly not going to work! I cannot stand this tortured feeling I get in my stomach when I think about you! What on earth does it mean?!"

Sarah stood, her eyes widened. She breathed heavily, gasping for air as her rage began to falter. She did not look at him; she could not look at him, nor could she even bear to think of the expression that his face held.

Jareth inhaled a sharp intake of breath, clearing his throat. "That was quite the outburst, Sarah, " remained surprisingly calm, his eyes flitting across to Dalyor who was presently standing on the balcony, one eyebrow raised as he wordlessly told Jareth it was best to leave.

If Dalyor was standing on the balcony, it could only mean one thing: His insufferable uncle and aunt had arrived.

* * *

"You seem tense, my dear boy," Vaughn remarked, adroitly wiping the smirk from his lips as Jareth strode in, whip in hand and a most sour expression on his face.

The king's sharpened features twisted into anger, before he feigned a smile and leisurely sat himself as far away from his relatives as possible. The two of them were quite unbearable, always speaking of their disappointment in him, or their concerns to do with his heirless life. Jareth, on the other hand, was far too preoccupied with Sarah's outburst. She had, after all, said that she was often afflicted with a 'tortured feeling' whenever she thought about him. Now_ that_ had to mean something.

"Jareth," aunt Lyndis trilled, "It is so good to see you out and about- not just sitting in that darkened room of yours, pouring over those tattered old manuscripts. My dear nephew, you are looking remarkably well for a soul so…_strained_."

Jareth grinned at her, idly tapping his whip against his thigh. His stretched his long legs out under the table, shifting around in his chair until he had gotten quite comfortable. He watched in delight as a goblin brought forth a platter of peaches, nuts and other fruits- something he needed dearly, for he was completely famished.

"You're eating?" Vaughn remarked, arching a delicate eyebrow. His stroked his greying beard in thought, fighting against the impulse to make some sort of remark.

Jareth silently frowned, popping another grape in his mouth. His eyes flitted about the room, stopping when he noted the disapproving look on his aunt's face. Not one to simply sit and fester in his curiosity, he asked, "Why must you look at me in such a way, aunt. I have done nothing wrong, I assure you. No children have been harmed, no goblins have been harmed- all is quite well," he paused, "Yet there is something troubling you."

"Indeed," she was careful to choose her words, "You are very correct, Jareth. I am puzzled as to why such a sharp and intelligent fae like you would still be without a wife, and shows no clear intentions of ever marrying." She looked sceptical, before bitterly adding, "Would it be the _mortal _girl? Does she drive your thoughts into a different direction, my boy? Your uncle and I are practically your parents, I thought you would know that you owe us this much."

"I owe you?"

A delicate eyebrow was raised, and lady Lyndis laced her fingers and rested them under her chin. She regarded him with silence, almost as if she was suggesting that he should be ashamed of himself, or, at least, apologetic.

"Do you not remember who my parents are, or did you discard their memories like the promise you made to them?" he snapped, his eyes cold and calculating.

His uncle's features twisted and gnarled. He clenched his wife's hand under the table, before calmly addressing Jareth, "My dearest nephew, there isn't a day when I don't think about your father. I grew up with him, I saw him grow into a strong man- he was a wonderful king, and the promise had to be broken, Jareth. We had to save you, and to save you, we had to let them take her."

"Her?" Jareth's rage was growing more apparent, "Now you _dare_ to be disrespectful to my mother?!" he shouted, his voice growing harder with each syllable.

"I apologise, my nephew. I was merely trying to be delicate about the situation- please, calm yourself. I mean you no upset, just let me explain myself, J-"

Jareth's lips upturned into a snarl. He pushed himself up from the chair, the weather outside growing darker and windier as angry tears formed in his eyes. "There is nothing to explain." He bellowed, "Queen Iona was my _mother, not _a nameless chit!"

Lady Lyndis cleared her throat and glared at Jareth, telling him wordlessly that he was pushing too far, that he was bound to regret his actions sooner or later.

The king took her wordless advice, storming out from the room without even looking at the pair. Growling, he began to stride towards his library for some much needed rest; _rest and reflection_, he smiled.

* * *

Sarah hadn't heard the door open to the library, she was far too engrossed in her book; a tale of romance, longing and loss. She had settled herself neatly in the corner of the room, the heavy leather-bound book resting gently in her lap, a glass of water on the wooden table beside her.

Jareth hesitated once he spotted her, curled up on the large chair, her hair falling softly on her shoulders. Every now and again she would smile, or sniff, or frown. And it was such a peaceful sight; Sarah with her gentle smile, her quiet intakes of breath. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of one day curling up beside her, sharing in her stories.

Looking coyly around the room, he coughed, causing a startled Sarah to shriek and drop her book on the floor.

"I came for quiet," he sighed, sitting himself beside her. He regally sat, his fingers laced under his chin as he watched her with contemplative eyes. "Did you come to calm down?" he asked quietly, noting how the corners of her mouth twitched into an almost smile.

She refused to look up from her lap, bending down to reach the book she had so happily been devouring. "Yes, I did indeed. You seem pretty tense," she noted without looking up.

"Yes, well, that would be the insolent and insufferable relatives that I was just called upon to welcome, " he grimly said, hanging his head back to look at the ceiling.

She looked interested. _Relatives? I really hope they aren't as awful as he makes them out to be- I cannot be held for my actions. Besides, they probably won't even like me. There seems to be some prejudice about the mortals in the Underground. _

"Relatives, Jareth?" she inclined her head, "I never knew you had relatives- I mean, your brother isn't allowed here, so it cannot be him, and your parents are….well, dead."

"Indeed," he sniffed, turning his head to look at Sarah. For a moment their eyes met, but Sarah looked away with a blush.

She frowned slightly, biting her lip as she wondered if she had just made a grave mistake, carefully, she said, "I'm sorry, Jareth. I really didn't mean for that to come out so insensitive."

"It's fine. At least somebody here knows how to apologise."

"I guess that's always handy," she giggled, "I mean, it must get tiring sometimes- having all these people visit your castle and such. Are you sure you haven't scared all of your guests away?"

"Ah," he drawled, "Such lovely humour, precious. But no, I haven't had guests for quite some time- reasons, my dear, that are veiled."

Sarah laughed at that. She laughed beautifully, tossing her locks as she did so. Giggling, she raised her hand to her mouth and spluttered, "I think you actually mean that you've scared them all off, Jareth."

"We seem to have forgotten this morning's incident, Sarah," he quipped, "Which was what I wanted to talk to you about, actually."

He felt her stiffen beside him, growing anxious with each moment Jareth left silent. It was expected, of course. Sarah was so uncertain when it came to Jareth, that she often didn't know what to say. There were times when she despised the man and times when she wanted to be with him. It was all rather perplexing.

"Well?"

"Well what?" she snapped, her back straightening. She whipped her head round, only to be caught by Jareth's hand cupping her cheek.

He stared into her eyes, fighting against the compulsion to kiss every inch of her. Sarah's lip quivered, and before he knew it, Jareth had his lips merely inches away from Sarah's. He could feel her breath; her ragged, hitched breathing, her excitement, her fear. Slowly, they began to move closer to one another, hearts racing, hands sweating-

"King Jareth!"

Both heads snapped round, clearly unimpressed. Sarah frowned, before jumping away from Jareth's hand. Scowling, the king stood from his seat and stalked over towards Dalyor.

"Yes?" he hissed, "What is it now? Unless the world is falling to pieces, don't bother me."

Dalyor seemed to shrink, fear rippling through his body as his eyes widened and he muttered, "My king, Taveon has escaped."

**A/N: Muahahaha! Like this little twist? Then feel free to leave a review. I hope I have shocked you with this chapter, my dears. **


	9. Chapter 9: Anything to protect her

**A/N: Once again, I'd like to thank you all for reading.**

**And for those who are my most loyal readers- I only know of those who also review- a big thank you! It is always nice to see a familiar name pop up on my emails. **

**So sorry for not updating yesterday, it was my prom so I had other ideas. **

**-Louise**

Fear had not struck the Goblin king for quite some time, but now it did and ravaged his body. His sharp features began to twist and gnarl into a portrait of terror; his eyes widening, gloved fists clenched. The sheer horror and trepidation he felt caused him to simply stand there, lips pursed together, quivering slightly as he fought the urge to let out a maddening scream.

"Do you mean to tell me that he escaped?" he dangerously growled, "That that wretched cur has somehow overpowered some of the best guards?"

Sighing, Dalyor nodded. He hung his head low with shame, "Yes, my king."

A delicate eyebrow was raised, lips twisting into a snarl. He had been a fool to trust those men, to simply let them drag Taveon away and treat him a mere threat. He was more than a _mere _threat, rather a pretentious peril, someone who desired and craved and hungered for the despair of others, who took great delight in watching them squirm and writhe under his dark magic.

"Dalyor, did you use your wits and call upon the fae council?" he asked sceptically.

"But of course," Dalyor notified, "I warned them; they have sent out the very best of their guards. They will have him by the morn, I am sure of it."

Jareth laughed sardonically, throwing his head back as he did so. He brought his hand up to his face to rest, before snorting, "You're a fool to think that, Dalyor. Nevertheless I thank you for using your wits. Without them, well, I dread to think of where we'd be standing right now."

"My king," he grimaced, "I shall have goblins and guards sent out to every perimeter of the kingdom- no space will be left unguarded, I assure you. I have already sent out Hoggle to secure the gate."

"God be good!" Jareth exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. He chewed his lip, his face growing angrier by the minute. "Just when I thought you had done so well, you decide to let the lack-headed fool Hogglewart-"

"Hoggle."

"-Hoggle, to guard the bloody gates! Do you want us dead," he snapped, "You might as well have invited Taveon in, for Hoggle is about as much use as a blind goblin."

Dalyor stood still, accustomed to the king's anger. He knew it was coming- it was inevitable, for he had, admittedly, rushed into things. Once he had received the news of Taveon's escape, he panicked and did what any self-respecting servant of the king would do; rush around and gather as much protection as he could. Protecting his king, and more recently the mortal, was his job. If he failed Jareth, then he failed himself.

Unfazed, he apologised, "Forgive me, my king. My first thoughts were of the lady Sarah; it is, after all, my sworn duty to protect the both of you. If anything should happen to her, why…I am wholly responsible."

"You bawl what you think I want to hear," Jareth retorted, "When it is, in fact, the _truth_ I would rather hear. Have I not brought you up with pure honesty? Yes, some may think the way I speak is relentless, but I am no liar." Scowling, he brought a gloved hand up, forcing Dalyor to shut up, "So, get on with it you fool! Run around in your quaking boots- I know you are scared- and _properly _secure all areas. Did you swallow a potion that causes one to become a complete imbecile? No? Then stop standing there and gawking at me- _move_, boy!"

Dalyor sped from the room at lightning speed. He had seen the king this angry before, so wasn't going to take any chances. The last time he regretted not going straight away, especially seeing as he ended up spending an evening in the oubliette. The Goblin King's temper was not one to be played with; it was delicate, had to be handled with care.

Sarah rested a mild hand on Jareth's wrist, "I think you are the one who is scared, Jareth."

"I am not," he growled, "A king does not fear for himself, if that is what you mean. I fear for you, precious. If he gets to you, then he gets to the Labyrinth. You've already destroyed it once. I will not have the same thing happen again. Rebuilding the Labyrinth is not as easy as you would think, Sarah."

Small hands gripped his arm tighter. She gulped, closing her eyes as Jareth pulled her into a hug. He watched her with blank eyes, struggling to register her fear. If she had been anyone else she would have received a stern talking to, but this was Sarah; she was threatened by Taveon. He wanted her for himself and Jareth knew he would go to great lengths to get what he wanted. _The insane, _he thought bitterly, _have an odd sense of determination when they become obsessed with something. They grow relentless, will do anything to gain what it is they desire- in this case, it is Sarah. And I have an odd determination too; I will do anything to protect her, as long as she so desires. I am willing to tear these walls down to find him if I must. Whatever I need to do, it will be done._

"When you say he gets to the Labyrinth," Sarah murmured, "Do you actually mean he gets to you?"

She raised her head, eyes innocent as a babe's; pleading, tears threatening to spill. He bites his tongue, covering his face with a blanket of false nonchalance. It is all he can do to keep her from panicking; he must remain calm, to hide his anger. If she feels its presence, he knows she will fear.

Sighing, she unwraps herself from him, stumbling backwards as she mutters, "I know what you mean now: the Labyrinth is a _part _of you. It is a part of your _soul. _When its walls come crumbling down, you are weakened, frustrated. You tell me that it is the Labyrinth that will be affected when it is really you. It's you who is worried for me, and that's okay!"

All he can do is stand there, wordlessly watching her features twist from confusion, to hurt, anger and fear. It is the largest amount of feelings he has ever seen conveyed in her face before. And he worries.

"Sarah," he cups her chin, "In a way you are correct, but wrong at the same time. The Labyrinth and I are not always directly connected; I can shut myself out of it if needs be, but much chaos would ensue. Without being connected to each other, the Labyrinth and I lose sight of what it is we are doing- it crumbles, I become dazed. I need to be connected to ensure full protection is available," he pauses, "Without me, the Labyrinth would wither away- likewise, with you and I."

She smiled softly at that, yet her lips fall into a frown. "I don't understand," Sarah shook her head, "Why would you wither away without me?"

"We are bonded." The words are whispered so softly, so calmly, that Sarah gains full meaning of them.

"Bonded," she echoes, the word seeming vaguely familiar.

He notes the confusion, yet at the same time her understanding. It is the bond's doing- the understanding. Without it, she would be stood gormless and dazed. It connects them, enabling her to understand partially. He must, however, explain to her. Without an explanation she would become frightened of the notion.

"Dearest Sarah, after Amarant, did you ever fall in love?"

She looked dubious for a second, before slowly shaking her head, "No. In fact, when I think about it, because his bond was…_false, _it couldn't have been proper, right?" She sighed. "Actually, when you think even more about it, we could have never formed a bond. Jareth, how do you know if a _true _bond has been formed? Maybe then we could work out if Amarant and I did ever bond."

"When you are with that person it feels as if time itself has stopped, that nothing will come between you two. You have the desire to be with them and, when that desire is fulfilled, it is pure ecstasy. When you touch, it feels electrifying- like a thousand bolts of lightning have struck you at once," he paused, "But in a _pleasant _way, precious. I suppose I find it difficult to describe."

"Right," she nodded.

He sighed, fiddling with the lace cuff of his shirt. "I find it much easier to describe how it feels when you are apart- and when I say apart, I mean both variations; either you are separated by land- in this case, world- or you have not yet acted on the bond."

He raised a hand to stop her from talking, "You have frequent bouts of hopelessness, longing- a depression of some sorts. Then there is the insomnia; sleepless nights coupled with frequent dreams involving that person. Finally there are the cravings for the company of said person and an insufferable and frequent longing to be with them."

"I felt happy when with him, but when we were apart? Well, I can't say I missed him too much. I wouldn't go so far as to say it drove me crazy…"

Jareth smirked, bringing a gloved hand to his mouth to hide it. Nodding, he said, "But what about when you saw him? How did you feel?"

"Drawn to him," she pursed her lips together, "I just thought he was the most beautiful thing on this earth and it was as if no one else was in the room. When I touched him… it burnt a couple of times."

"Did you dream of him?"

She shook her head, "But once. The dream was vague, actually; rather dark, he seemed possessive. I started to lose the feeling of awe over him. It was as if I was slowly breaking away from him."

"Dark magic," he frowned, "Is a dangerous and powerful thing- powerful enough to replicate a bond. Whilst it is powerful enough to do that, it will fade over time. It sucks the energy from the caster, eventually weakening them to the point of certain death." Hissing, he turned and stalked towards the window. "I imagine Taveon had to impede the magic, otherwise he would have succumbed completely and been unable to finish the task. He has had enough time to replenish this magic of his…"

Sarah opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it as Jareth was now pacing the length of the library, hands clasped behind his back. He would stop every now and again to look out of the window, before he eventually shook his head and sighed. "The fools," he cursed, "They checked his magic levels- I ensured it- but the count was obviously so low by that point that they did not think to detain him properly!"

"Properly?" she asked, inclining her head as Jareth scowled at the window.

"We have special chambers for those who harbour magic powers- there is a difference between Taveon's magic and mine- that being that mine is more powerful, yet only inclined to do good. Taveon's is dark, therefore casts only dark spells."

She nodded. She understood now. "The battle of good and evil," she murmured.

"If you can call me the good one, then yes," he snorted, "How cliché."

He watched the window for a few more moments, checking for any possible signs of anything, before turning back to Sarah and regarding her with a grimace. "I will return to you, Sarah. But first I must hunt down and kill this senseless chit before he can do you any harm."

Just as he turned to transform into an owl, Sarah gently laid a tentative arm on his shoulder. She blinked back her worries, whispering, "Get back safe. Return as soon as possible," her lips quivered, "I'm scared."

"Fear not, I will return to you. But not without destroying him."

Sarah watched with blank eyes as Jareth transformed into a snowy white owl, driven by anger and hatred as he sped from the window.

As soon as she shut the window Sarah shuddered, the ghost of a whisper startling her: "_I'm coming for you, my pretty," _it had said.

**A/N: I hope I did not disappoint. **

**Reviews are greatly appreciated! **


	10. Chapter 10: He has your mind

**A/N: As always, thank you to everyone!**

Those words had shaken her, caused her to run from the room in fright. She knew not where she was going, but her legs seemed to carry her swiftly, almost without effort. Perhaps it was the fright that had caused her to move so deftly.

Her only thoughts were of where she would go; there was nobody in the castle that she knew of, for Dalyor had sent them all away. The safest place her mind could think of was the dining hall- heavens knew why, for the large oak doors would only be enough to keep out someone _without _magic. Yet she was still driven that way and found herself running through the doors.

Sarah slammed them shut, turning around with the intention of grabbing one of the decorative swords from the wall, when a very regal couple stopped her in her tracks. The man, clad in green velvet and with narrowed eyes, stood and studied her with suspicion.

"May I ask who you are, my dear?" He spoke gently, as if he were trying not to scare her.

Sarah gulped, realising that they must have been the visiting family Jareth had spoken of. She nodded, "Yes, I'm Sarah Williams. I apologise for running in like this."

"Ah, Jareth's mortal?" he asked, inclining his head, "I didn't expect you to be so charming. My apologies for the cold greeting- I'm a little on edge today, my dear. Jareth and I did not have the best of times this morning, but I've no doubt he's already told you of that."

She tilted her head to one side, fear momentarily forgotten, "I suppose he told me a variation of your situation."

"Very well then, would you like to sit with us, my lady? It would be lovely to get to know you."

She looked across to the older lady- his wife- and knew she had no choice. The old woman was watching her with appalled eyes, seemingly fighting against the compulsion to tell her husband off. It did not give Sarah the best of feelings, but rather than dwell on such nonsense, she sat herself down and heaved a heavy sigh. Much was at stake, she knew, and if Jareth didn't return, she feared it would be the start of a miserable existence.

"I am Lord Vaughn and this," he motioned to the gnarled old lady, "Is my wife, Lady Lyndis."

"I would like to return to our private wing soon, my husband," Lady Lyndis frowned, avoiding the sight of Sarah as if she were some sort of poisonous stain. The lady writhed in her seat, obviously made uneasy by Sarah's presence.

Sarah frowned. Of course, prejudice was bound to be driven towards her, but Sarah hadn't actually experienced it first-hand. The name calling behind her back she could stand, but this, she could not. It was hurtful to see someone regard her with such revulsion in their eyes, to know that they were grabbing at any possible chance to be without her presence. It made Sarah feel ashamed, yet she knew it was not her fault- she was born a mortal, for heaven's sake!

Lord Vaughn raised a delicate eyebrow, swiftly bringing his hands to rest under his chin. He watched his wife with slight disappointment, before uttering, "I fear my wife may be a little tired. We did travel for quite some time." He nervously licked his lips, "However, it would be _rude_ of her to leave. Why, we haven't even heard a piece of information about you!"

"Jareth didn't speak of me?"

Vaughn shook his head, "No. You seem surprised? Truth be told, Jareth has always seemed to escape from his emotions- especially when it comes to sharing them with others. I am quite certain he likes you a lot more than he's letting on." He watched her with mild amusement, before smiling, "A drink, Lady Sarah?"

"Vaughn, I believe she is more than capable of pouring herself a beverage," Lady Lyndis snorted, "That is one thing I am certain about her, for sure."

Vaughn scowled a little, ignoring his wife. "My dear, you look shaken. Is all well? I do hope Jareth didn't take his temper out on you- you must handle him with care and I'm sure you did, but he is somewhat unpredictable at times."

"He shouts from time to time," she said frankly.

The Lord placed a comforting hand on hers and smiled sympathetically. "I don't doubt that for one minute. His bark can be far worse than his bite, you know- sometimes, on rare occasions, it's the other way round. And his bark is all just sound and fury, nothing much behind it," he chuckled slightly, "Are you sure you're fine?"

"I'm fine," Sarah bit, "I think I'll have that drink, please."

He nodded, pouring out the red liquid into the silver cup. He passed it to her from his seat, before watching her intently as she brought the cup to her lips.

"Now, tell me a about yourself; mortal hobbies, your customs. I am very interested."

His wife snorted, rolling her eyes as her husband leaned closer to Sarah, genuinely interested in what she had to say. His wife, Sarah noted, was far less friendly than her husband, and she came to wonder if the marriage bore any fruits. If marriages in the Underground were only conceived of two people marrying for title, then she wondered if she would ever get married at all. A certain name came to mind, but Sarah bit her lip, hanging her head slightly as she blushed at the notion. Since when did she think about marrying Jareth?

"Lady Sarah, you look ill. Are you sure you are well?" Lord Vaughn asked, his eyes conveying pure concern for her.

Sarah looked down at her hands. They were paler than before, veins prominent and a strange shade of blue. She noticed one pulsating and quickly hid the hand in her skirts, clutching them for some sort of support.

"Yes, I'm sorry," she raised her head, "What would you like to know?"

"I'm partial to a bit of knowledge about your daily lives. Just what do you do all day?"

Sarah bit her tongue, fighting against the compulsion to laugh. "Oh, it really depends on who you are. Me? Well, I go to work when it isn't the weekend."

"What is it you do?" he asked, instinctively grinning.

"I worked in a little book shop," she smiled, "I've always adored books, so I thought it would be the perfect place to work. The plan was to work there until I started to work professionally for Broadway."

Sighing, she placed her cup back on the table and began to trace the engravings with her fingers. She had given up hope of becoming an actress- mostly because it no longer appealed to her after the Labyrinth escapade. She soon found herself delving into books, trying to rid herself of Jareth's memory, of Ludo, Didymus, Hoggle and anything else to do with the Labyrinth. Sarah soon found her passion in script writing, practicing every night, even writing plays for Toby's school. It was the furthest she'd probably get, she knew. It was hard to break into the business, her mother had taught her that, but Sarah didn't think there was anything wrong with having aspirations, so she continued until that fateful night when Amelia had been wished away by Toby.

"I've heard of that. Did you ever make it that far?" he asked, looking at her incredulously.

Sarah stilled, "No, Lord Vaughn. The elusive Goblin King stole me away before I had the chance." She laughed a little, trying to lighten the situation, but Lady Lyndis did not seem as humoured by the joke and raised an eyebrow, frowning.

"I _will _take my leave now," Lyndis stood from her chair, eyes averting from the straight-laced face of Sarah. She paused, before resting a tentative hand on her husband's shoulder. "I do not approve of this," she hissed, "She will hurt him, for she is mortal. A few years will come by and we will watch him despair when she dies. I will not stand for this, Vaughn. I think of him as my son."

Lord Vaughn nodded, wordlessly bidding his wife to leave. He watched as she strode out of the room, wrinkled hands clenched and greying brows furrowed. Her temper, as well as her health, had grown quite delicate during the past year or so. Vaughn decided he could not keep her in that room forever- for Sarah's sake as much as his own.

"Did I do something wrong?" Sarah asked, biting her lip once the great oak door had slammed shut.

Lord Vaughn turned in his seat to face her, clutching his drink and gulping at the sight of the poor mortal. He was worried for her; her face had grown considerably pale in the minutes that had passed, and the mortal seemed to be growing wearier by the minute, eyelids drooping and mouth shut tight. He wondered if he should call a doctor, but knew it was not his right to do that. Sarah was Jareth's, therefore Jareth would do as he pleased with her and probably wouldn't be very happy about someone else taking charge of his mortal.

He scanned Sarah's pale face, gently saying, "You did nothing wrong. My wife," he sighed, "Grows ill with each passing day. I dread to think of the illness consuming her completely, for I have already lost the woman she once was. Sooner or later I will have to let go."

"Let go?"

His eyes blinked back tears. Sarah only noticed then how old he looked, how aged and tired his appearance was. He must have been very old, she decided, for he looked incredibly worn. The idea of growing old never appealed to Sarah, but she wondered what it felt like for a fae to eventually lose their youthful appearance. Jareth had told her that it was only those ravaged by sickness that lost the entirety of their youth.

"Yes, my dear," he seemed wary, "She is bound to die soon, and much too young for my liking. I daresay I will die not so long after her, for my heart will break when she departs. Our bond is strong- as is yours and Jareth's- and the bond will cause me to writhe with pain. It will be an unbearable world for me to live in; there won't be much for me to live for."

Sarah patted his hand gently, "Don't you have children?"

"No," he shook his head, "There was an unfortunate incident in which a jealous ex-lover of hers had a fit of rage and took away her ability to have children." Sniffing, he poured himself another cup. "At the time we were expecting our first child. Deaglan, we would have called him. It means 'full of goodness'."

Sarah's eyes watered at the sheer sadness this fae had experienced. She never really thought about anything like that happening in the Underground, for it was already too surreal. She had had her thoughts in the clouds ever since Taveon had been put away, deluded by false imaginings of her own and such. But now the wretched fae was free, she knew that the reality of the Underground would present itself all too well.

"_The darkness rises above all good."_

Whipping her head around, Sarah stood from her seat. She scanned her eyes around the room, searching for the source of the voice. When nothing happened, she sank back into her chair, eyes motionless, unblinking.

"Sarah?"

Vaughn's words seemed a mere blur to her. The world was falling; crumbling walls echoed in her ears, the shadow of a man filled her eyes, the darkness beginning to consume her. _"You're mine," _it said, _"Jareth does not love you and you are worthless to him. He has gone, abandoned you for a whore."_

She screamed an ear piercing scream, knees buckling as she fell from the chair. The sound of Vaughn's voice completely depleted, gone. She was left alone in the shadows, the hands snaking across her body, tugging at her hair and her flesh.

"_Sarah, you do not love me- why?! I will make you love me! See my true form, my sweet." _

The gnarled, haggard old face of Taveon twisted into the face of a younger fae. He had raven black hair, sharp yet beautiful eyes and he was _youthful. _Yet the beauty of his face was not enough to comfort Sarah; she brought her hands up to her face, screaming as she felt tight arms wrapping around her.

When she looked up again, _he_ was there. Jareth was there. He pulled her from the darkness, muttering words that made no sense. Sarah shuddered as he brought her crashing into his chest, arms holding her tight as he cast the shadows away.

"He has your mind," Jareth murmured, pressing hot kisses to her forehead, "But I swear to you, I will find a way to save you."

The sheer horror of it all had driven the energy from Sarah. She began to feel herself slipping away, just missing the silent utter of, "You are my bond mate. I love you."


	11. Chapter 11: I will not do this to you

**A/N: There probably won't be an update tomorrow, as I'm going up to the David Bowie exhibit in London with my friend. **

Sarah had been unconscious for many days, tossing and turning with fear written all over her face. Sometimes she would screech from the sheer pain Taveon's magic had left her with, other times she would lay silently, unmoving. Once or twice he feared her dead and went running to his doctor. The entire time he never left her side; impatiently pacing up and down the length of her bed, watching her with every intention of protecting her.

It was on the fifth day that she awoke. She had sat bolt upright in her bed, eyes wide open and searching for something in the room. They eventually settled on the sight of Jareth who was languidly stretched across the chair, and fixated themselves there. She refused to look away; if she looked away, then she worried that he would disappear and Taveon return.

"Sarah," he soothed, reaching out to take her hand. She relented against his touch; eyes bulging as she almost retched.

The king inclined his head. With eyes fixated tightly on Sarah's shuddering form, he sighed as he withdrew his hand and sank back into the chair. Something was wrong with Sarah- that much he knew- and whatever it was had caused her to become some sort of wreck.

He frowned, not quite understanding her. "You can trust me, Sarah. Just tell me what ails you and I can help. If you let your fear fester, it will only worsen; I cannot fix completely broken things."

"You can't see it, can you?" she hung her head low, a cold hand on her shoulder as a deep voice whispered terrible things to her mind. It made her shudder, ashamed of the things it was saying to her. Horrible, horrible things that made her want to scream and tear out her hair. She heard herself whimper.

"Sarah," he bit, "I cannot see whatever it is you are talking about. Stop being so vague, I cannot help you."

"I know you must think I'm crazy," she murmured, "But there is a constant shadow with me; as dark as the night sky and with a touch as cold as ice. He whispers these-these things into my ears, Jareth. He tells me I am poison, that only he can touch me for I'll make you ill."

She whipped her head up, angry tears threatening to spill, "I can't touch you, Jareth! I won't hurt you!" Sarah began shaking her head hysterically, tears sliding down pale cheeks.

"You have _never _hurt me. My dearest Sarah, I am forced to take action on this- I will not let him hurt you, therefore I have created a plan. The plan should work, but if it should fail, then I want you to know you always belong to me, and are most certainly _not_ poisoned."

She gulped back tears. "This plan of yours better work," she bitterly laughed, "Or you're going to start experiencing some serious mind-fuck."

Jareth was taken aback by her cursing. She did it so little- rarely ever, in fact- that it was the telling's of something simply gone wrong. He frowned, muttering under his breath as Sarah downed four glasses of water. Anyone would have thought she was quenched.

Jareth stretched in the chair, lips upturned, threatening a smile as he watched her toss and complain about him being creepy. He began to reflect on the plan, raising a delicate eyebrow as Sarah flopped down onto her pillow and closed her eyes. This plan would tire him considerably as it involved using large quantities of magic; the entire Goblin kingdom would need to be covered in a blanket of magic, hopefully protecting Sarah from any possible harm.

He felt something tugging at his sleeve- an arm- and looked across to find Sarah lying on the bed, one eye open, reddened from crying. She slowly let go of his arm, patting the space beside her, wordlessly asking him to join her.

"Sarah, I cannot."

Frowning, she huffed, "Why?"

"Because it's-"

She watched him with sceptical eyes, folding her arms across her chest. "Don't lie to me," she raised an eyebrow, "You're a big pervert. I know you're dying to get in this bed with me!"

"Sarah, that type of talk isn't proper, and is most certainly frowned upon," he feigned anger, knowing he couldn't do this to her. He could not lie beside her, fearing that if she woke up because of another bad dream, she would accuse him of doing the unthinkable. He shook his head once more, declaring vehemently that, "I refuse to sleep with you. I will not have you frightened, precious."

Sarah paused for a moment, almost contemplating what she should do, before draping an arm around and sighing. "Look, we're bonded- right? We might as well get used to one another's company," she pulled him down onto the bed; "I need you, Jareth. You need me and I need you, let's just get on with things. If we don't act upon this bond, then we could mess things up for ourselves. I'd rather be truthful, but then at the same time I don't want to be."

"Sarah, I will not do this to you. You are not thinking straight." He pushed himself away from her, averting his eyes from her slumped form. Jareth pressed a tender kiss to her head, ignoring her angered hiss. "Sleep," he ordered.

Sarah merely rolled her eyes, flinging herself down onto the bed in a fit of confusion. Why was she saying these things? Surely she didn't really think that carelessly about the whole situation? Troubled and tired, Sarah wriggled under the sheets and attempted to shut her eyes.

The sound of the door clicking shut as Jareth snaked away caused her to jump slightly. She turned around, eyes scanning across the room for any sign of him. Sarah felt tears well up in her eyes as she clenched her fists. Grabbing a pillow, she threw it at the door and screamed at Jareth, "I need you! You're driving me crazy!"

From outside the door Jareth rubbed his weary eyes, biting his lip. He turned slightly to the door, Sarah's words having stung him slightly, before he shook his head and stalked away. No, he needed to work now, and think of his bond mate later. She was not well; he loved her, therefore could never do her any harm. He would not frighten her.

Defeated, she attempted to shut out all feelings of Jareth. The plan worked for a short while, until Sarah opened her eyes with a gasp as something grasped her tight, wrinkling and ruining her sheets. It seeped through her nightclothes, _touching _her, and she screamed.

Oh God, did she scream.

**A/N: I am so sorry about the shortness of the chapter! This wasn't my best and for that, I apologise. **


	12. Chapter 12: Aware

**A/N: THE EXHIBIT WAS THE MOST AMAZING THING EVER AND I WANT TO LIVE THERE!**

**I managed to buy some awesome goodies, and have been decorating my room with the numerous postcards I brought.**

**They also had some props from the Labyrinth! There was Jareth's riding crop, and one of the crystal balls. There was a letter written from Jim Henson to Bowie, asking him to take a look at the script and think about taking the part of Jareth. **

Dalyor heard a scream. It was a heart wrenching sound, which sounded as if the woman was being strangled. He guessed that the scream came from Jareth's mortal and, without much thought, Dalyor dropped his papers and ran towards the horrifying sound, his hand clutching the hilt of his sword.

He would kill whoever it was that dared enter the Lady Sarah's chambers. If she was in any harm, then Jareth would have him hung, killed; it was up to Dalyor to rescue her. Gasping for breath, he burst through the door, only to find Sarah _alone_ yet writhing on her bed, clawing at herself and screaming louder than before.

"Lady Sarah!" He cursed under his breath at her state; she was bleeding all over her arms, scratches deepening by the minute as she tore her fingernails through the skin. Her hair was damp, matted with tears and sweat. Sarah's eyes would not open; they refused to, no matter what he tried. Dalyor grabbed her by her wrists, clamping them down on the bed as he frowned, "Look at what you've done to yourself! Why must you scream so loud? What is it? What ails you? I cannot see anything-"

He paused, eyes flitting around the room. If he squinted hard enough he could make out the shadow of a shape looming in the corner by the window. Turning back to Sarah, he let out a slight gasp to find she was covered in blackened bruises- bruises that weren't there before.

_I take my eyes off of her for one second and already she is bruised. _He looked frantically around the room once more, before fixing his eyes on Sarah's shuddering form. She looked pale, withdrawn. _Lady Sarah looks awful. Her entire face is frozen in fear…but why? I see nothing in this room but common shadows; our eyes play tricks on us, so the shadow that I saw in the corner means nothing. _

Dalyor gulped, willing himself to pick up the writhing Sarah. The job was not an easy one, for she flailed and thrashed about, screaming, "Don't touch me! Get off me!" over and over again. He should have just left her there and called for Jareth, but there seemed to be a suspicious sort of aura in the room.

"For the sake of King Jareth," Dalyor uttered, "I will take you to the doctor and find the cause of this nonsense."

_The presence of our king is prerequisite. In order to stave off this imposter, we need our king and his magic. We need his wisdom, his prowess. King Jareth, we require your presence immediately. If you can hear me, I beg of you, please come to our aid! Sarah is injured, and I fear worse has happened._

* * *

He stopped in his tracks, hair flying wildly around his face as the wind tore past him. All around him there was ruin; walls had begun to crumble, fairies were hiding, plants were dying and a storm was brewing. He swore he could hear someone calling him, for if he was ever truly desired, he would be able to hear their wishes. Jareth could now- an echo, an almost inaudible whisper of words he could scarcely work out.

"_Presence…..stave off….imposter….need…magic…..require…..immediately… ."_

The Goblin King's eyes narrowed. What could this mean? He listened closely for more, trying his best to break the boundary in his mind, a brick wall, something only his bond mate could break through. He knew the voice, which did not give him confidence in regards to Sarah's safety.

"_Hear me….." _Jareth's fists clenched, "_Beg…you….come….Sarah…worse."_

And that was when he knew. Everything- the walls, the storm- was because of Sarah's distress. The Labyrinth had been trying to get his attention, had been trying to protect its champion! How could he be so foolish? Jareth balled his hands up into fists, disappearing in a flurry of smoke and wind.

* * *

"Where is she?" he demanded, pushing the great doors open with such force, that they almost fell from their hinges.

The sound of his frantic footsteps pacing up and down echoed around the hall, sending shivers up Vaughn's spine. Lady Lyndis sat beside him, rigid and peering motionless into the space ahead of her. Her eyes were red from crying, clawed hands clasping onto her husband's arm for dear life.

_So they must know of something. My uncle seems pale, almost as if he has seen or heard something utterly morbid. Why was only Sarah's name mentioned? What does this shadow want with her? _

His eyes widened as realisation struck, and Jareth hoped it wasn't too late as he left the hall, angrily pulling things from the wall as he went.

Vaughn noted the sheer fury of his nephew's actions; the way he had promptly strode in, how he had asked for his mortal first. Lord Vaughn nodded to himself, _"_The bond between these two is strong, my love."

He felt his wife stiffen. Lyndis looked up, a slight bitter look in her eyes as she bit, "You are right. However, I fear that this will be the end of Jareth. Do you forget his reaction to her leaving the first time?" she inclined her head, "It sent him into an obsessive whirl. Every day he would pace these halls, plotting some sort of revenge against her, a way to get her back into the Labyrinth- he wanted, Vaughn, to re-design the Labyrinth, to see if she could do it again. Yet he would not. I know Jareth well, as do you, and once he becomes enamoured with something, he never lets go."

"Lyndis you may be right, but we must let him," Vaughn frowned, "He is a grown man now. We have done all we can. I share your fears, yet at the same time I doubt they will ever come true. Jareth must be left to his own devices; we learn from our mistakes."

She brought her fist down onto the table, eyes wide and brimming with tears. "I will _not _see him suffer! He is like a _son _to me, Vaughn. I could not give you children, but let me bring Jareth up as our own!"

"You have done enough," he warned, resting a hand on hers. "My wife, we have brought him up. Let him fly freely- he has done rather well so far. If Deaglan were here we would have had to do the e_xact _same thing. Iona and Alwyn asked for us to bring him up; we did not fail them, we did the best we could. They would have had to let him go, just like us." Lord Vaughn sighed, shaking his head, "Feel privileged, my wife. We got to see Jareth grow up- something Iona and Alwyn never got to do."

"I do."

"Then stop worrying," he advised, "Sit with me here. Dine with me. Jareth does not want us intruding."

* * *

"She has been calling for you."

Jareth jerked his hand away from Sarah's hot forhead, smiling lightly as he found his old friend Vurin leant against the door, a scar leading from his right eye to his left cheek apparent to Jareth.

"A scar?" Jareth raised his eyebrow, gesturing for Vurin to come in.

The fae stalked over from his spot in the doorway, a smile tugging at his lips. He regarded Jareth with playful eyes, before draping himself on a nearby chair. "Yes," he grinned, "Very recently. About an hour ago, I would say. Found an odd looking fellow in the grounds of your castle- he said he didn't know anything about Taveon, but a liar is easy to spot."

"That fucking-"

"Calm yourself!" Vurin warned, tugging lightly on Jareth's shirt.

If he had been anyone but his best friend, Jareth would have sent him into the Oubliette. But luckily for him, they had reconciled after the incident involving Taveon and the poison.

Moving with all the unpredictability Vurin remembered, Jareth rose from his seat to stalk towards the window. It was a large window, large enough for two or three people to stand by it and, if it were a hot day, then the balcony doors would be open for Jareth to cool down. This was, after all, his bed chamber, so Jareth had designed it intricately; making it his own, different from the rest.

On the wall above the dormant fireplace were portraits; one of a family- Jareth's family- with the mother standing proudly with her two sons, dressed in fine red velvet and golden hair adorned with pearls. The father stood with his chin pointed towards the air, his magnificent sword at his waist, gloved hands lightly fingering the hilt. The two boys were none other than Jareth and his brother Beldroth. Jareth was notably younger in the portrait, younger than adulthood to say the least. His brother, a few years older than him, standing with a stern look on his face, hands clenched at his sides. The one to the right was a portrait of Jareth in his throne room, clad in his usual poets-shirt, black breeches and a rich blue coat adorned with golden thread and buttons. The one to the left was empty, unfinished; a simple blank canvas with nothing but a golden frame around it. Vurin looked behind himself, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he realised Jareth was probably going to have Sarah painted.

"The bond is rather obvious, Jareth. Why not make it official? Marriage is a sure-fire way to make sure she understands just how much she means to you."

Jareth pursed his lips, a delicate eyebrow arching as his vision focused on the scenery outside. "She is yet to admit anything to me," he frowned, "I cannot force her into marriage if she does not want it. Sarah is weakened at the moment; her mind seems to be confusing her with all sorts of emotions- therefore I do not think it wise to act upon my feelings at this moment in time."

"Jareth," Vurin chuckled, "You already admitted to her that you love her- why not consider marriage?"

"Because she has not, as I already said, admitted a single emotion to me," he growled. He was absolutely certain that there was something she needed to say to him, but decided against asking any time soon. She was in a fragile state of mind, so rushing into something as important as marriage would be a grave mistake. He could not do that to Sarah.

Sarah stirred in her sleep, mumbling feverish words as she writhed under the covers. Jareth and Vurin both looked round, Jareth lingering longer than Vurin, before turning back to observe his kingdom. This worry of Jareth's both amused and concerned Vurin. He would not see his friend travel down the same treacherous path again, for last time it had drained him and almost driven him insane.

Sighing, Vurin patted his friend on the back and grinned, "You should have heard her when you weren't here, my friend."

"Why?" Jareth asked, looking rather sceptical at the smirk on Vurin's face.

Vurin took a deep breath, wishing that Jareth had been there earlier. Vurin himself had arrived before the Goblin King, but purely because he had heard news of the kingdom in distress, and more so because Dalyor had sent frantic word to him- something about Sarah being in distress. When he had found Sarah the doctor was mopping her brow and helping her to sip water.

Even now she still seemed feverish, as if the doctor's magic hadn't worked. He had cleaned her cuts well and few remained, but the bruises still stayed, blackened and ugly. He knew there was far more to it than people were letting on, but respected the privacy Jareth had obviously instructed for the mortal. He closed his eyes, smiling as he felt Jareth turn beside him to look at Sarah once more.

"Stop worrying," he said, opening one eye, "Your Sarah is well. Now, tell me, would you like to know what she had been saying, or shall I leave you to be gnawed at by your anguish?"

Jareth shook his head, "I'd hear what you have to say now, if it pleases you?" He rested a hand on Vurin's back, pressing his forhead against the window. "I doubt it has any significance whatsoever, but go on."

"Not only did she call for you, but," he smirked, "She spoke of _needing _you. Sarah kept muttering something about a demon inside of her head, so when I touched her forhead to feel its temperature and to make sure I couldn't sense anything, she opened her eyes."

"And what else did she do?" Jareth asked, sounding relatively unimpressed.

"She thought it was you, so grabbed my hand and brought it to her lips to kiss it. When I told her you were out and who I was, she dropped my hand and said, I quote, 'bugger off. It's Jareth I want. Only Jareth, only Jareth….'"

Vurin held a hand up, forcing Jareth to be quiet as he continued, "Sarah fell back into a sleep-like state, but kept muttering about how she couldn't hurt you, how she _belonged _to you. And she wasn't bitter about it, my dear friend. Sarah said she would only ever belong to you, for her _heart _is yours as long as she has yours."

"She seems like quite the talker," Jareth sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Believe me, Jareth! She is not actually asleep; the doctor told me she is aware of what is going on, aware of the people around her. Therefore, Sarah is aware of what she's saying."

Jareth looked thoughtful for a moment, before saying, "I suppose she could be. But her mind is being attacked-"

"Hey," said a voice from behind them, "I am _very _offended by what you are saying, Jareth. We're bond mates- you should have realised by now that I do know what I'm feeling, and what I am feeling is real."

"Sarah?"

She grinned, green eyes glowing. "That's right: I love you, Jareth. I am not mentally unstable, I am fully aware of you, of your stupid cocky ways, and those extremely tight pants of yours!"

"So I _did _catch you staring the other day," he chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. He couldn't help but smile beautifully at the look on Sarah's face, or the way she tried to hide her blush.

Jareth moved forward, removing his glove from his right hand. He gently took her face in his hand, smiling as she nestled into his touch.

"You can shut up," she mumbled as he pulled her into him, "Because I may be bed-bound, but I have a mean kick."

Sarah slowly began to realise that Jareth had removed his glove and, with the satisfaction of knowing they were getting somewhere, grinned into his chest and sighed with bliss. His hand was soft; it was softer than anything she had ever known, and warmer than she had expected.

"My poor precious," he murmured, "All those scratches and bruises."

She ignored his comment, trying to ignore the pain of her inflamed wounds at the same time. "How come you never take your gloves off?"

"He gets cold easily," Vurin joked. He frowned when they turned to him, Jareth with his cold eyes and raised eyebrows, Sarah with the completely innocent look on her face. "Or not," he shrugged, "The tale is vague. He used to prattle on about it when we were younger."

Jareth sighed, biting his lip. "These gloves control the amount of magic I allow to flow. They prevent me from using too much, from being…a monster."

"You are no monster," she said softly, taking his face in her hands. She pressed her forehead against his; brushing his lips very lightly with her own- so lightly that it felt like the wind. "You are Jareth. You are _my _Goblin King."

**A/N: By the way, it will not be horribly romantic and fluffy all the time. I know some people dislike this. **


	13. Chapter 13: Pieces of Jareth's past

**A/N: Thank you very much for reading.**

"Well there you go," Vurin smirked, "Sarah just admitted her feelings for you. Now, don't you think it's about time you got married, Jareth? The other kingdoms begin to talk."

Sarah whipped her head round, regarding Vurin with narrowed eyes. She didn't look best impressed with the fae who she had, admittedly, forgotten was there during the time she was nestled into Jareth. Sighing, she pushed herself away from Jareth and hissed, "Gee, thanks for interrupting our little moment!"

"A queen rarely has her privacy- thought you ought to know," he smirked, almost as if he were implying something.

It surprised Sarah slightly, causing her to look rather taken aback. It wasn't like the idea of marrying Jareth hadn't crossed her mind; the whole reality of it all was just rather weird. It was strange to think that she had openly admitted her attraction to the king, for a few months ago she would have protested and claimed she hated him. The thing was; she never _hated _Jareth, Sarah just didn't like him.

Vurin folded his arms across his chest, chuckling, "You seem shocked? Well, I might as well warn you now, before you are surprised when various members of the fae council walk in on you and Jareth during-"

"Enough!" Jareth snapped, pulling on his glove. Once he had pulled it on, he outstretched his fingers and issued Vurin with a glare. "I believe you are being somewhat misleading. Perhaps you'd like to tell Sarah what it is _truly _like, rather than scaring her?" he paused, "No? Then do shut up."

The other fae retreated into the wall, frowning as he rolled his eyes and tutted. "You are such a spoilsport, Jareth. When we were young boys you would have jumped at the chance to deceive a fair maiden. Why, do you recall the time we set fire to the cook's under-"

"Sarah does not wish to hear any of our childhood escapades," he hissed, turning back to face Sarah, "Do you, precious?"

She looked thoughtful for but a minute, grinning all the while. "_Well…_.."

"No."

"Why not," she beamed, arching an eyebrow as she inclined her head. "I'd like to hear all about your silly little games."

Jareth groaned. He didn't need to share his childhood with Sarah- there was little to tell, and what there was of it was rather stupid. He had been a reckless child, rebelling against his soppy aunt who would do nothing but weep and fret over him. All those years he had spent wondering, wishing he knew who is parents were, only to be deceived by the people he thought loved him.

They had kept the secret hidden for years, parading Jareth around like he was _their_ son. Hiding the evidence, stowing away portraits of his mother and father, begging people not to speak of Iona and Alwyn for fear that their names would spark his memory. Jareth had been fooled, lied to. They spiked his drink, his meals, enticing him with their false words. He felt like he had betrayed his own parents; he had run into the arms of a lying, thieving woman. She stole him away from his mother, bringing him up as her own, not only lying to herself, but her family.

Sarah began to wave a hand in front of Jareth's face, trilling, "He-ey! Jareth?"

He blinked, his face once devoid of emotion now twisting into anger. He was not angry at Sarah, but at the thought of having been lied to for all those years. He could have avenged his mother, but he chose not to. He would not be the bitter husband for Sarah; a man who would sit and talk sourly for days on end, hating the woman till the very end. He had never liked her, but he could not do this to Sarah. Sighing, he clasped her hand and excused himself, "May I take my leave?"

"Stay with me," she whispered, her face twisting into the expression of a frightened child. She looked around the room, searching for the shadow, before murmuring, "I can't have this happen again. Understand me, Jareth! I am scared. I need you here. I-I need you t-to block him out. You can do that, can't you?"

Her words began to sound like a string of incessant babbling. She did not stop, nor did she make any signs of thinking of doing so. Sarah was frightened and he could do something about it, but Jareth was tired. She had drained him yet again. Yes, he had much concern for her wellbeing, but he needed to rest. If he did not rest, then he could never defeat Taveon when the time came.

He stalked towards the door, nodding at Vurin as he walked past. Vurin nodded back. He knew it was time to take care of Sarah. He would sit and watch her all night, just for Jareth. Their bond was strong, yet not strong enough to communicate with one another.

Jareth would have to marry Sarah- and soon, if he wanted to prevent Taveon from deflowering her. Vurin knew his intentions. He did not know if Jareth knew, but he had his suspicions.

"Come now Sarah," he smiled, "Let me tell you all about Jareth's childhood."

**A/N: Apologies for the short chapter, it's late and I wanted to make sure you got an update- regardless of how short it is. **


	14. Chapter 14: Wine

**A/N: Here, have a little humor. I apologise if this chapter is awful. I'm exhausted.**

* * *

The king had been in his study, thinking and trying to offer a solution to the problem when Lord Vaughn appeared at the door. He was careful to make little noise as he walked towards Jareth, aged eyes regarding the king with slight disappointment.

Jareth stilled, pausing to pick up his pen. "You can sit yourself down if you promise not to disturb me," he muttered.

"I don't even get a proper greeting?" Vaughn sighed, letting his body fall back onto the large, velvet chair. He gave Jareth a wry glance, before crossing his legs and heaving an exasperated sigh. "How does your mortal fare? I do hope you weren't this rude to her."

The Goblin King's lips twisted into a snarl. He gripped his pen hard, almost breaking it in the process as he narrowed his eyes. "Her name is Sarah, and you would do well to show her some respect," he snapped, "One day you will find yourself kneeling before her."

"Oh…You are thinking of marrying her, Jareth?" Vaughn raised a sceptical eyebrow.

Now he began to worry. His wife would react with such fury, and Vaughn did not know how to explain such a notion to her. Her moods were delicate; she had to be handled with care, for she was in a fragile state of mind and had been since they began taking care of Jareth. Lyndis oft said she would rue the day Jareth married. No one was good enough for Jareth as far as she was concerned.

"The thought has crossed my mind, indeed. I do not care to hear of your distaste for Sarah."

"Jareth," Vaughn merely raised a surprised eyebrow, "I was only going to congratulate you. Your mother and father would be most proud. I do not, however, know how your aunt will react. Let us deal with that when it comes to it."

Jareth nodded, biting his lip as he turned to face his uncle. He regarded the fae with a slight smile, taking the harshness away. His uncle looked worn, tired. He was no longer the strapping young Lord that he had once believed to be his father; now he sat slumped because of his back pain, prominent veins blue and bulging on his aged hands, wrinkles making him look almost unrecognisable. It made Jareth's heart droop, for he may have found his Uncle's presence distasteful at times, but he was the closest thing left to his father. He had remembered his father- an energetic king, someone who protected their family and kingdom with all their heart- but only had few memories of him.

"Why don't you just tell her?" Jareth smirked, his eyebrow rose, "I can deal with her. I have dealt with her for a long time, so surely I can face up to this."

Vaughn chuckled. "Ah, but Jareth, this is marriage! She does not want to see you married- especially to Sarah. I know the bond between you two is strong, but Lyndis is adamant that you two will not marry."

He stroked his beard in thought, holding up a hand to keep Jareth quiet. "It is a perfect test for you two," he laughed, "See if you can survive the wrath of your aunt, Jareth."

Jareth rose up from his chair, sharp teeth flashing as he smirked at his uncle. He flopped down onto the sofa with his hands behind his head and his long legs crossed neatly at the ankles. All previous anger for Vaughn forgotten, Jareth turned and smiled. He found his uncle most tolerable when they shared the same thoughts on his aunt.

"We will do well, I am sure of it. Wine?" he asked, motioning to the bottle of red liquid that had appeared on the oak table beside them.

Vaughn regarded it with determined eyes, until he motioned somewhat carelessly towards the wine, nodding as he chuckled, "Yes, very well then. Just don't get me too drunk, nephew."

Jareth poured out adequate amounts for the both of them, snorting slightly as he recalled the time his uncle had gotten particularly drunk. He had taken to running through the halls of the castle, whooping and singing in a shrill voice. Jareth remembered being a young fae, awakened when his uncle came dancing into his room. He smiled at the memory; his uncle had picked him up, whirled him round, and then carried him to the stables, babbling on about a midnight ride. Lady Lyndis was beside herself when she found Jareth's bed empty and her husband gone. She was livid when she found them both frolicking with the horses, Jareth's night attire torn and muddy from falling once or twice, his uncle's fine velvets sticky with wine and dirtied by mud.

Vaughn brought the rich red wine to his lips, sipping regally. He watched with amusement as Jareth downed his second glass, before resting a hand on Jareth's wrist and issuing him with a look of slight warning. It only took a small amount of fae wine to have any effect; it also worked its magic quicker, causing the drinker to become drunk in a mere matter of minutes- depending, of course, if they had drunk more than three glasses full.

"What?" Jareth hissed. He looked down at where his uncle's hand was and frowned. He was _king_! Who did his uncle think he was? If he wanted to drink himself silly, then so be it. He was rather stressed due to previous events, so deserved a bit of pleasure.

His uncle tutted, shaking his head as his hand returned to rest on the arm of the chair. He turned slightly to Jareth, regarding him with slight disappointment, before saying, "My dear nephew, I only wanted to make sure you did not wake up with a blinding hangover tomorrow." He laughed, bringing his cup to his lips, "I have had quite the number over the past few years. Lyndis does not approve, which only makes me want to do it more." He eyed his own cup with surprise as it re-filled itself, "Its shit, when you think about it."

"Of course," Jareth grinned bashfully, swirling the deep red liquid round and round in the cup. He inclined his head slightly, before downing the rest. "I do wonder how Sarah would react if she knew I was sitting here, getting drunk. Perhaps she'd join me!" He laughed beautifully, sharp teeth flashing as he threw back his head and hooted.

"Jareth, are you a lightweight?"

The goblin king filled his cup yet again, snorting. "No, uncle! I have had five…four? Five? I have had some glasses."

"Five!" his uncle exclaimed, studying his nephew sceptically.

"Yes," Jareth nodded, "You have been very busy staring into your cup and whatnot…."

The two sat in silence for a mere few minutes. It was an awkward silence, one where only the wind could be heard blowing through the windows and goblin's lurking nearby could be heard hooting and singing. Both fae turned to one another, before bursting into a fit of laughter, clutching onto one another.

"Uncle, I have a seri- serioooo- _serious _question to ask you."

Vaughn gulped back the last of his fourth cup, having only just realised that Jareth was filling it without him knowing. "Well," he stretched, "It really depends on what it is, Gareth."

"Jareth,"

"-Jareth…." His uncle closed his eyes, before opening his right one and draping an arm around his nephew. "What on earth were they thinkin' when they named you? Jarey, Jarey…Jareth!"

Jareth grinned, sloppily placing his cup on the table next to them. "Whoopsie," he trilled, giggling as the wine glass toppled over and spilt over the table, red liquid dripping onto the floor.

"We're a right pair of beautifulllll beings, Jarey!"

"I agree," he grinned, forcefully planting a kiss on his uncle's forehead. "We are magnificent. My…my…have you seen my hair? It's just…..just…wow."

Vaughn opened his mouth to let more incessant drabble out, when Vurin came striding in. When he noticed the two fae draped over one another, a glass on the floor with spilt wine all around it, he hissed and brought his hand to his forehead, massaging it.

"Dear God," he sighed, "What have you two been doing?"

Jareth grinned bashfully, stumbling to his feet. He picked up the bottle of wine, spilling some on the carpet as he swayed towards a very nervous looking Vurin. "I have," he paused, eyes widening momentarily as he jabbed a finger in Vurin's face, "Been a naughty kinggg…."

"I can see that," Vurin duly noted.

Jareth stared dubiously for a moment, before throwing his arms in the air and shouting, "It'ssss a party! Join me!" he stumbled backwards, grabbing Vurin's arm in the process.

The other fae hissed as he toppled onto the sofa- and ended up crushed underneath Jareth, who was incessantly giggling and prattling on about partying and being an amazing person.

"I'll have you know Mr Vurin," he slurred, "I'm not interested in males…I like…..Sarahhh."

"Wonderful."

"I'm in loveeee!" he shrieked, before collapsing in a drunken state- whilst still on top of Vurin.

"Oh, brilliant," Vurin rolled his eyes, "I'm stuck underneath the goblin king who will, undoubtedly, be furious when he awakes…" he peered across to Vaughn who was presently lying on the other sofa, hands over his ears as he tried to sleep.

Jareth stirred in his unconscious state, before falling off of the sofa and landing with a loud thud.

"Or not," Vurin smirked, brushing himself down as he stood.


	15. Chapter 15: Flirting and other things

**A/N: I've been busy organising things for my sixteenth birthday (It's on the 8****th**** of July!). I accidentally found one of my birthday presents, and it's a David Bowie t-shirt. **

**Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! It's so lovely to hear from you all. **

**Oh, by the way, I have another Labyrinth fanfiction swirling around in my mind. If anyone wants to hear what I've got so far (It's such a little amount because I've just started planning) then just leave me a note somewhere. Also, if anyone wants to see something particular happening, then say so. I'll get back to you A.S.A.P!**

"You mean to tell me that Jareth was drunk off his arse?"

Vurin nodded slowly, watching with amusement as Sarah stifled a laugh. "Indeed," he grinned, "I could not quite believe it myself. You see, Jareth hasn't been drunk for a very long time- the last time, I recall, was after you had defeated him. He got _very _drunk."

The image of a drunken Jareth stumbling around and babbling relentlessly about utter nonsense was enough to make Sarah double over with laughter. She clutched at her stomach, howling as Vurin repeated the ridiculous things Jareth had done.

"I wish I had been there," she gasped, "I mean, how many times do you get to see Jareth intoxicated?" She began to laugh harder, hoping for another incident such as this one to happen.

Vurin arched a delicate eyebrow, nibbling a grape as he chuckled, "You ought to be careful what you wish for. Jareth can be somewhat…randy…when drunk." He absentmindedly picked up another grape, twirling it in his fingers as he eyed Sarah. She had stopped laughing now, causing Vurin to smirk, "But you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"No way," she mumbled, beginning to peel an orange. Sarah peered determinedly at the orange, so hard that she began to pull a funny face.

An awkward silence filled the air between the two, before Vurin pointed an accusing finger at Sarah and teased, "Liar."

"What was that?" She narrowed her eyes, challenging him.

"I called you a liar," he bit, "I know a liar when I see one."

"I am most certainly _not _a lair, you arse! I only want to see him drunk so I can-"

"Shag him," Vurin said casually, shrugging as he did so.

Sarah's eyes widened out of anger, and one began to twitch. She squished the piece of orange she was holding, sending juice squirting on the table. "_What _did you just say?" she demanded.

He shrugged again, "I said the truth."

"No," she pointed a finger at him, sending her glass of water from the table, "You are just trying to tease me. Now I know why you and Jareth get on so well!"

Vurin tutted, shaking his head, "Sarah, Sarah, Sarah," he sighed, "If you were placed in a room with a drunken, randy Goblin king; what would you do? Stand there and shriek? Run away?" he paused, eyeing her, "I know you wouldn't do either of those things. You'd probably be stubborn and fight him off until you couldn't deny it anymore, _or _you'd take advantage of the situation."

She sat with her mouth agape and a strange, strangled noise emitted from it. Her face had gone a bright shade of red, and Sarah was now immensely regretting her decision to say anything at all to Vurin.

And then, just as Sarah thought things couldn't get any worse, the Goblin king strode in wearing an _extremely _tight pair of cream pants, which did nothing to help her already reddened face. He walked in with an air of importance, completely disregarding his hangover. He looked determined not be deterred by any possible rumours Vurin was spreading, and sat himself down on the seat at the top of the table, nearest to Sarah.

He looked from Vurin's smirking form to the reddened face of Sarah and arched an eyebrow. "And what have we been discussing?" he asked, lacing his fingers together and resting them under his chin.

Sarah gulped, but Vurin was eager to butt in and spoke loudly, chuckling, "Sarah and I were just discussing your little escapade last night." He seemed undeterred by the scowl that came from Jareth, and continued, "Did you know that if she were to come face to face with you drunk, she'd-"

"Get scared," Sarah quickly babbled. She shot Vurin an angry glance, before smiling coyly at Jareth. "I'd get scared and run away."

"Oh, precious," Jareth grinned, "I know you're lying."

She gulped yet again, closing her eyes. _Maybe if I close my eyes, he'll disappear and then I won't have to deal with this anymore! _Sarah grinned silently to herself, clenching her fists. _Yes, he'll be gone when I open my eyes, for sure-_

"What on earth are you doing?"

The woman's eyes snapped open. She threw her head back and groaned with exasperation as Jareth carried on smirking at her, laughing and jesting.

"I'm intrigued," he continued, "Vurin, dear friend; would you care to tell me what it is Sarah would do?" He flashed a beautiful smile, sharp teeth showing as he did so.

Vurin grinned. "But of course, my king. How can I deny you the truth? I'd hate to be thrown in the Oubliette for defying you." He turned to Sarah, looking at her with innocent eyes, "Would you have poor innocent me thrown in the Oubliette, Sarah?"

Grimly, she shook her head.

"Very well then, tell!" Jareth stretched his long legs under the table, resting his arms behind his head.

"She would probably fight you off, wouldn't she?"

Jareth's eyes flitted across to Sarah's slumped form. He nodded, "Yes, Sarah is a rather…feisty young woman."

"Precisely, it is in her nature to try and push you off, yes? So after trying to deny that she wants you, she'd have to give in."

"And then what?" the king grinned, leaning forward in his chair.

"She'd ravish you."

Jareth intentionally licked his lips, making Sarah squirm in her chair. "I like the sound of that," he smirked. He watched for a few moments more as Sarah tried to focus her vision on the platter of food ahead of her, before huskily saying, "I never knew you had it in you."

She jumped at his tone of voice. When had he ever used that one around her? She couldn't recall it, but regardless- it was sending shivers down her spine and making her want to retch and swoon at the same time.

"Oh come on!" Jareth stretched in his chair, lips parting slightly as Sarah reddened. "It's called flirting," he rolled his eyes, "Flirt back, precious."

In all truth she hadn't flirted in a long time. There wasn't much chance for her to flirt in the book shop- purely because most of the customers took little interest in the other people in the shop and were more focused on buying books. Her town was pretty small, which meant quiet. The meagre population of people limited her; she found it hard to actually find a boy who wasn't such a twit, and the majority of them were either too young or more interested in her boobs.

So rather than make herself look like a complete and utter idiot, Sarah rose from her chair and walked towards the Goblin king. She watched him with a slightly embarrassed expression on her face as she leant down and kissed him on the cheek.

Jareth looked puzzled, but nevertheless still smiled. "I'm surprised," he said, "Why did you do that?"

"Because," she shrugged.

"Just because?" he frowned, narrowing his eyes. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, before pulling her into his lap. Once she was there he snaked an arm around her waist, before nuzzling into her and breathing in her minty scent, "You smell good."

A cough from behind them interrupted the moment, and both turned to find a very amused looking Vurin standing by the door. "Oh please," he whined, "Spare me the lovey-dovey chit!"

"Nobody said you had to watch," Jareth winked at Sarah, "In fact, why don't you leave and give us some privacy?"

"Excellent idea," Vurin nodded, before pulling the door open and slamming it again once he had left.

Jareth turned to Sarah, drinking in her beautiful face; eyes slightly weary from lack of sleep, cheeks tinged with red from her embarrassment. Her lips were beautifully shaped, kissable…He leant forward and pressed his lips to hers, groaning in satisfaction as she parted her lips.

**A/N: MUAHAHAHA! *Ahem* Thought I'd leave it on a little cliff-hanger for you all. **

**Reviews would be extremely awesome. **


	16. Chapter 16: A new experience

**A/N: Aw, I'm sorry for being evil! (By the way, I've never kissed anyone before, so this could be wrong. I don't know.)**

**It's about to get a little risqué! (In the first part, at least)**

Sarah's eyes widened as the kiss deepened; she had kissed a boy before, but it wasn't _anything _like this. Jareth's mouth was soft, yet he kissed so roughly, and it didn't seem to bother her. She didn't know how to kiss this passionately, but Jareth was so…irresistible, that she couldn't help but part her lips and let his tongue slide in.

He groaned against her lips, arms running up and down the length of her body, clutching at her clothes, pulling her shirt up. He slid soft hands under her shirt, causing Sarah to gasp. The fact that he wasn't wearing gloves made it heaven; his hands were soft, but roughly grabbing at her skin, clutching her like he was afraid she'd run. Why would she want to run now? Here she was; the Goblin King touching her all over, his mouth pressed hard onto hers and doing things she never even knew existed- it was a new experience, and as far as Sarah was concerned, she had much to learn from such an experience.

She arched against his weight, groaning with pleasure as he began to slide his hands under her bra. Jareth pulled away momentarily, allowing Sarah to swallow some air, before crashing his lips onto hers once more.

Sarah closed her eyes again; it was like nothing she had ever felt. As his mouth moved expertly against hers, she sighed and relaxed even further into the kiss. Her fears of not being good enough destroyed, gone because Jareth was so into the kiss and Sarah knew that Jareth, being the cocky fae he was, would have said so.

After gloveless hands had finished exploring her beautiful, curvy body, Sarah gently pushed against his chest with her hands and looked upon his face. His mismatched eyes were wild with passion, his face red and flushed from the excitement, the lust. He grinned beautifully, almost a wolfish look spreading across his unearthly features.

Sarah slid from his lap, standing before him with flushed features and tousled locks. "Fuck," she gasped for breath, "I did not know that kissing could be like that. That-that was…amazing!"

"You did very well," he commented, eyes flitting across to focus on her slightly unbuttoned shirt, grinning wolfishly.

Sarah's eyes travelled to where his were, before she frowned and folded her arms across her chest. She couldn't stay mad at him for long, however, and green eyes rose to meet his.

"Come." He offered his hand, standing from his chair.

Sarah peered hesitantly at the hand, noticing how his gloves were back on once again. After slight hesitation, she took it, glancing warily into his eyes before smiling coyly as he led her towards the door, and out into the hallway.

"Where are we going?"

"You have duties, my Châtelaine," he said, flashing his sharp teeth as he did so. He clasped her hand tightly; as if he were worried she would turn and run away. The king kept her in his line of vision, wanting to push her against the nearest wall, to kiss her and drive her crazy- yet, the hallway didn't seem like the best place for it, and so Jareth remained well-behaved and continued leading her down the hallway.

Sarah groaned, peering down at their entwined hands. "I forgot all about that. I guess we have a lot of paperwork to do."

"Not exactly," he shook his head, "Dalyor has been more than willing to help. Whilst I am grateful for his help, I must admit that I missed having you in the room with me. Your ideas are simply wonderful. In fact, we need to begin choosing our outfits." Jareth grinned, leading her down a sudden corner.

"Oh, let me guess…_matching _outfits?" she said sardonically, laughing at the look on Jareth's face.

"But of course," he smirked, arching a delicate eyebrow, "We will be seen as a couple from now on. We're courting; therefore we will want to look in-sync when making an appearance together. Don't you realise how much your first public appearance will mean for your future? In order for them to accept you, you must be the perfect hostess; you must be obedient, well-mannered and have a wonderful dress sense."

"My dear," he laughed, "You will be in the limelight. Do not look at me like that," he frowned, tilting her chin. "I will have them know that you organised the whole event- that is a great feat in itself, precious. They think all mortals are the same; odd, unbeautiful and naïve. You are none of those things."

Sarah rolled her eyes, "Good to know that _you _don't think I am that. Look- I just want to be the best person for you, okay? I do not want to disappoint you, or disrespect you in any way. We are bonded, and ever since the whole…incident that has occurred very recently, I feel like I owe you."

"You've certainly changed your tune," he grinned mockingly, pulling Sarah around yet another surprise corner. He grinned at the door that stood before them, large and oak with intricate patterns, before outstretching a gloved hand and pushing it open.

Sarah walked in, suspecting yet another dreary room. She was, however, surprised. On the wall surrounding the beautiful desk were sketches; many, many sketches of various costume designs- blue, white and wonderful shades of gold and silver. She shuddered as she stood and twirled in the middle of the room, drinking in the sight of all the decorations that lie out on ivory tables, spectacular whirls of silver and blue intertwined. It looked beautiful, and as if Jareth had been working incredibly hard.

"This is…." She paused, unable to find the right words.

Jareth walked up behind her, squeezing her shoulders with gloved hands. He grinned as she shuddered under his breath, before leaning down and planting hot kisses on her neck.

"Go on, pick a dress," he said huskily, "You will look divine in whatever one it is you desire, my Chatelaine; my precious."

**A/N: That's all I've got time for, because it's late and my birthday is tomorrow so I want to try and sleep. **

**Thanks for reading, and reviews would be awesome!**


	17. Chapter 17: Forever and ever

**A/N: It may be my birthday, but I really wanted to update. **

**Thank you very much for the birthday wishes!**

After but a few moments of deep thought, Sarah decided upon the costumes she thought were the most beautiful. Jareth's attire consisted of a white poet's shirt, with intricate lace adorning the cuffs of his sleeves. He would also be wearing pure white pants (tight as usual, causing Sarah to giggle at the thought), a beautiful blue coat, adorned with silver buttons and thread, and a pair of knee-high, black boots.

She, on the other hand, was going to wear a magnificent gown. It was pure white, had long sleeves that trailed slightly on the floor, a slightly puffy skirt and was adorned with blue and silver diamonds. Her hair was to be let loose past her shoulders, curled slightly, and with pretty little crystals decorating it. Her shoes were simple; plain white satin, with little heels that allowed her to stand long enough without her feet dying. She chose simple jewellery, which consisted of plain diamond studs in each earlobe.

After choosing their outfits and having their fittings, Sarah and Jareth began to sit down, contemplating what to do about the smuggler situation, or how they should prevent any more unicorns from running rampant through the gardens. Eventually Sarah and Jareth settled on two ideas, before moving on to the subject of marriage.

"Soooooo…." Sarah began pulling out proposal after proposal, feigning her interest. She studied each one, secretly jealous that Jareth would even consider them. What would she be- his mistress? She didn't understand; they were supposed to be bond mates, supposed to be bound together forever with love.

Jareth noted the slight confusion on her face, before resting a gloved hand on hers. "Precious," he purred, "Put those down. I have already got one in mind."

Sarah stilled. She sat, unblinking, motionless. She couldn't quite process what the Goblin King had just said. Surely he had considered her? What about her feelings? Green eyes rose to meet mismatched ones, tears threatening to spill.

"Just leave me out of it," she spat, bitterly regarding the king.

"Sarah, I did not mean any of _them." _His tone had changed all of a sudden. It was somewhat cold, yet calm at the same time. He looked at her with his beautiful mismatched eyes, lips threatening to twist into a smile.

He found it, in all honesty, rather sweet and amusing. He would have continued to play with her, jesting and taunting her; teasing and torturing her, but he decided enough was enough when she sharply stood from her chair, fists clenched and breathing heavily.

"Sarah," he soothed, "I meant you."

"You did?"

Jareth laughed. He brought his hand to her wrist, pulling her back down onto the seat. "Of course, precious- Why, did you think I would rather marry those mundane princesses?" he shook his head, "They are trained to be prim, pretty and perfect- I do not like the idea of having a timid little wife to follow me around in her pretty little dresses, popping out children at my every command."

"Oh boy," Sarah groaned, throwing back her head as she did so. She paused momentarily, watching the candlelight flicker, the room surrounded by shadows. She straightened up, bringing herself to look at Jareth's amused face. "I am such an idiot. Wow."

"It's quite alright," he hesitated, fingering the velvet box in his pocket, before slowly standing from the chair and getting onto one knee.

"YOU ARE DOING THAT!" Sarah shrieked, unable to contain her excitement. She blushed a bright shade of red, screaming, "I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE DIFFERENT AND WEIRD BUT OH MY GOSH! JARETH, YOU ARE PORPOSING TO ME!"

"Wait- sorry, I didn't mean for an outburst like that to happen."

He merely arched a delicate eyebrow, bringing the beautiful ring to Sarah's view. It was a gorgeous ring, golden and with a small emerald decorating it. It glinted and gleamed in the light, quickening Sarah's already deep breathing.

"Will you marry me?" he chuckled, "If you say yes, we will be bonded. The ceremony will be essential for you to stay alive, to live _forever." _

Sarah nodded wildly, "Yes. Oh God, yes."

His eyes seemed full of promise as he placed the ring on her hand, his smile never fading. When Sarah looked into his eyes she knew he would fulfil his duty; to protect her, to love her and to care for her.

"The rings we will obtain on our wedding day will have something carved into them." His sharp teeth flashed as he grinned, eyes gleaming with happiness.

"What?"

He leant close to her, pressing his forehead against hers, "Forever and ever," he whispered.

"Forever and ever," she whispered back.

**A/N: I'M SO SORRY IF IT'S SHORT AND AWFUL BUT I'M TIRED AND WANT TO REST.**


	18. Chapter 18: Fury

**A/N: Sorry for not updating yesterday.**

**We're going to have a bit of a different chapter today. **

"_Selcier," _he purred, scratching the large wolf behind its ear, "Did you hear what those naïve creatures said?"

The white wolf nestled into his hand, red eyes peering up at its master. He was as white as snow, quicker than the finest horse, had a bark as loud as thunder and teeth as sharp as steel. He had been trained from the moment he could stand, hand-picked by Taveon and his foolish ward Amarant.

Yes, foolish Amarant. He had been so easily brainwashed, so easily fooled. All it took was weeks of slipping the concoction into his food, then Taveon had him right where he wanted him. He did as ordered; seduce the champion and forge a false, yet realistic, bond with her.

"Why must I live in a world full of fools?"

"My Lord, if there were no fools in this world then you would not have a pawn to play with. In fact, I do believe that Sarah wouldn't exist."

Taveon lifted his head, removing his hand from his cheek. His dark eyes roamed the room, his mouth flashing a handsome smile as he recognised the form of his faithful servant, Eike. "Eike," he smiled, outstretching his gloved hand. "Do you return with news?"

Eike stepped from the shadows, Taveon's guards having stepped back and removed their swords. The fae removed his hood, allowing Taveon to look upon his face. He had a scar on his left cheek and bruising by his mouth; his eyes were the shade of hazel, his skin so pale it was almost white.

"But of course," the fae swiftly bowed, "I do fear that this news is not good, my Lord. It will not serve your weary state of mind- if you don't mind me saying."

Taveon's lips twisted into a snarl. "So I really am blocked out of the Labyrinth's walls…" he mused. Sighing, he began to tap his fingers on the stone throne. "There must be a way to penetrate it, but," he hesitated, waving the idea away, "Tell me."

"He has proposed."

"He did _what?" _

Window after window began to shatter, the sound of Taveon's angered cry having broken them all. Guards and people of his court fell to their knees, scrambling on the floor as shards flew past them, the wind tearing at their clothes. Outside a storm began to brew; loud thunder, flashes of lightening so bright they blinded, rain and hail battering down on the land.

His face twisted into a mixture of anger and horror. She had defied him, after all he had done! He had ensured she was brought back to Jareth, twisting and changing fate. He had visited Toby in his dreams, had caused Amelia to cry and cry. _He _was the reason she was now sat with her beloved Jareth. _He _was the reason she was going to marry him. In a fit of rage Taveon stood, his wolf following in his footsteps.

"If you have lied to me…" He walked towards Eike, nodding at his wolf. It was a wordless threat, needless to say a menacing one.

The wolf beside him had begun to snarl, saliva dripping from his mouth, teeth stained with blood from his evening snack. His eyes glowed red, claws scratching on the tiles as he paced round Eike. Selcier paused once he reached Eike's hand, before mercilessly clamping sharp teeth round it.

"In the name of the Underground!" the fae screeched, twisting and wrenching his arm as the wolf began to bite into him, eyes bulging with a thirst for his blood. The fae looked upon the wolf with pained eyes, but his wordless pleas were left unheard, ignored. Screeching once more, he threw back his head and screamed, "I AM NOT LYING YOU INSANE BASTARD!"

Any other living being would have had their throat ripped out; however, Eike had a special place in Taveon's good book. He liked him purely because he was drawn to danger; he would address him how he wanted, when he wanted, and would often treat him like an old friend. They were not friends. Taveon saw no need for emotional attachment. The attachment for Sarah was merely lust- there would be no emotional side to the sex, she was a prize. She was his prize for waiting for years, his prize for suffering the loss of his beautiful lover.

He merely laughed, calling his wolf back as it bounded towards him, playfully munching on Eike's forefinger. "Good."

"You are-"

"Insane?" Taveon grinned, placing his hands behind his back as he inclined his head. "Why, in a sense I am. But one does suffer from insanity when they are _driven out _by their _own _family, purely because they are _stronger _and possess greater magical abilities."

He began to pace round the bleeding Eike, ignoring his curses as he tried to nurse his hand. He wanted to see him suffer for a few moments more, _then _he would be given the treatment he needed.

"Fuck off!" Eike hissed, teeth clenched as the wolf came near him once more, licking his lips at the sight of his blood and severed hand.

He began to pull his dagger, but within a flash the wolf had pinned him down, using his claws to hold him there. He screamed at the pain, turning red as he gasped for air. Above him Taveon stood, peering down at him with malice in his eyes.

The fae simply smirked, bending down so that he was eye-to-eye with the unfortunate fae. "When one loses their lover and is told to replace them, it is difficult to stay happy. It is difficult to stay sane when the entire Underground condemns you to rot in a cell, with nothing but the rotting bodies of those who conspired with you."

He brought his face closer to Eike's frozen one, eyes mocking as he watched the fae choke under his wolf's grip. "It is so unfortunate that you chose to draw a weapon against my wolf, my man." With those cold words, he simply clicked his fingers and walked from the room, Selcier following at his heels.

"Such a pity," he sighed, "Another person I am forced to re-train."

* * *

"_Such a pity…."_

Sarah bolted from her bed. She ran to the door, backing up against it as shock and confusion took a hold of her. Those words were very familiar, yet it hadn't been Jareth's voice she heard. It had been _his, _she just knew it.

Somewhere in the room next to her the Goblin King stirred, mouth twitching as he felt the dark force move. Sitting bolt upright, he brought forth a sword and lit up the room. From the shadows, someone stirred.

"For goodness sake," he hissed, "Show yourself!"

The shadow moved, revealing a pale face with the trademark family hair.

"Hello brother. I heard you are in trouble?"

Jareth frowned, standing from his bed. "_Beldroth, _it has been long."


	19. Chapter 19: Brothers

**A/N: I have to be honest and admit I forgot to update yesterday. Many apologies!**

"Indeed." The older brother stepped forward, hands on hips. He regarded Jareth with mock hurt, eyes showing a slight hint of annoyance as he noted the sword in Jareth's hand. He raised an eyebrow, "You would pull a sword on your own brother?"

Jareth frowned. "Brother? Can I call you brother now?" he spat, eyes narrowing as he lowered the sword. He took a couple of steps closer to his brother, before hissing, "You wanted _nothing _to do with me. I wanted your help- I was a _child_. I had no recollection of mother or father; I knew _nothing _of my own past, it was all lies. They lied to me, brought me up as their own."

"I sympathised with you Jareth, I really did, but there was nothing I could do for you. You were _safer _there."

The goblin king's face twisted into denial, then anger and, finally, sadness. He had been bitter for so many years, yet he had not heard the whole story. He looked upon his older brother- similar in many ways to his father, with the same short blonde hair and blue eyes- sighing as he realised all the years that had passed.

"Jareth, I beg of you," his brother inclined his head and stepped forward, "Forgive me. Everything I did was to protect you!"

"Running away was protecting me?" Jareth shook his head wildly, the sword disappearing from his gloved hands. "How was refusing my request protecting me?" His voice began to get louder with each syllable, his eyes beginning to burn with a mixture anger and anguish. "I was a _child! _You left me with those _liars, _without ever knowing if I truly was even who they said I was. I doubted myself for years, Beldroth. Even now I fear my heritage may not be completely true!"

Beldroth shook his head, clutching at his scarred hand. "I suffered for your sake, but I am not bitter, Jareth. You need not be bitter either."

"Bitter?" The king's eyes were bulging, teeth nibbling away at his lips. He brought a hand to his cheek and rested it there, fighting against the compulsion to scream at his brother. "I am merely seeking answers. I have been lied to so many times, I must have the truth. Did you run like a coward, or was it all truly to protect me?"

Beldroth sighed, arching an eyebrow as he walked to the corner of the room. He seemed hesitant to speak at first, before resting his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. "I watched them slaughter father, then I saw them come after mother. I led them away- I was, after all, our father's son. They wanted me as much as they wanted you, mother and father. Whilst I was leading them someplace else, Uncle Vaughn came to aid us. He sought you and mother out, but was caught."

He took a deep, ragged breath, before continuing. "I got there too late Jareth, far too late. She was gone, far gone. But you," he looked at his brother and smiled, "You were still alive."

His words may have been so little, but they meant so much. In his eyes were nothing but truth, promise; he was truly happy that his brother had survived, giving Jareth hope that he was telling the complete and utter truth.

"I had to save you. Mother had been stabbed, thrown from the window as she tried to protect you. She had hid you in her last moments, pushing you under the bed." He tilted his head to one side, gently asking, "Do you not remember any of it?"

Jareth paused momentarily, before replying, "No."

"Then I will spare you the gory details, little brother. I will not have you plagued with nightmares, not now." He waved their conversation away, turning back to face Jareth with a small smile. "Do you forgive me?"

"I need more time," he frowned, holding his hand up. "There are some rather…unsavoury…happenings going on."

Beldroth looked at him knowingly, his eyes gleaming. "This whole business with the shadow man- He is after Sarah, is he not? Well, that is the reason I have come. I offer you and her protection, my services."

Jareth looked thoughtful for a moment, then sceptical, before withdrawing his sword and pushing his brother down to his knees.

"I will knight you."

"But, brother-"

"Enough," Jareth snapped, his voice cold, his eyes warm. He brought the sword to his brother's shoulder. "I will knight you- but, I need to know if I can trust you. If you defy me or deceive me in any way, expect consequences."

"That is only fair," his brother grinned.

"Only fair," Jareth agreed.

* * *

On the other side of the door Sarah frowned, eyebrows arching as she listened in. Was Jareth really knighting his brother, after all these years? She pulled away again as she heard the faint laughter, smiling slightly.

"_Brothers_," she whispered, shaking her head.


	20. Chapter 20: Aine

**A/N: Only a very small number of you know the reason why I haven't been updating as much, all I am willing to say is that it is a matter I do not wish to make entirely public and is to do with my health.**

**Thank you all for your patience.**

The night had passed slowly for Sarah. It was different for Jareth, of course, who was secretly overjoyed that his brother had returned and was helping him to piece together the missing pieces of his past. He had spent the night with sweeter dreams than usual, satisfied that his brother was only in the room opposite to him, where he could call upon him if he so desired, and that he knew where he was.

Sarah tossed and turned, voices floating in her head. Some voices were kind, whispering about her future, whispering words of encouragement; that she'd make a great queen. Other voices- two of them, there were- crept inside her head, muttering dark words. She had grown so tired of fighting against the voices that it no longer mattered; she fell asleep after another two long hours of it.

Her legs felt like jelly as they carried her towards the hall. Her eyes were drooping and sore, dark circles around them. Her lips were pursed into a thin line, threatening to quiver and cry. That's all she wanted to do: cry. She wanted to cry because the voices were tormenting her, still reaching her even though Jareth had _promised _her that they would harm her no more. He _lied_. She was bitter at first- angry, even- but Sarah was too tired to hold a grudge. What else mattered anymore? She was to be his queen- that, she had decided, was all that she should focus on.

She was so tired that she hadn't even bothered to make a proper effort with her dress. Sarah had begrudgingly stalked into the hall with her hair tied up into a messy ponytail, wearing an old pair of her jeans and a long, lemon-yellow shirt. Home comforts, nothing too fancy. She had decided she would rather dress for comfort and for the sake of feeling _normal, _rather than prancing about in fairy-tale gowns. _Except_, she bitterly looked at her plate as she sat, _it doesn't work. _

Jareth studied her warn features with a small frown, drinking the sight of his dishevelled fiancé, before turning and glaring at his brother, who was trying his hardest not to remark on the state of his mortal.

A delicate eyebrow was raised as Jareth put down his fork. "Sarah," he smiled, enjoying the way her name rolled off his tongue, "You look positively exhausted. Tell me, where you actually asleep last night, or did you fancy a midnight stroll?"

"Oh, I slept," she growled. She picked up her fork and stabbed it into the boiled egg, wrinkling her nose up in disgust at the smell. _"But _only after being tortured by those _fucking," _she paused, relishing in the look on Jareth's face as she cursed, "voices. I thought you said they wouldn't bother me."

_Somebody is rather upset, _Jareth duly noted, lacing his fingers and placing them under his chin. He regarded her with narrowed eyes, mouth threatening to twist into a snarl. He wasn't angry at her- oh no, she was merely tired, exhausted from fighting the voices, no doubt. Sarah was confused and angry, but Jareth wouldn't let himself get angry with her. He had more important matters to focus on- like, for example, why his powers were no longer having any effect on Sarah.

"Sarah-"

"Sorry," she snapped, averting her eyes from Jareth's face. They flickered back momentarily to meet mismatched ones, before focusing on his brother's face. She leant back into her chair, almost as if she recognised the fae, before throwing her hands up in the air and shouting, "THOMAS?!"

Jareth did not look amused. He turned to his brother, right eye twitching. He snarled slightly as his brother shrugged, eyes burning as his sibling casually muttered, "Yes, I _was _Thomas- but only during my time in the Aboveground, Jareth." He leant forward, studying Sarah, before grinning mischievously. "Ah, Sarah, I almost didn't recognise you! You look different. In fact," he smirked, "You had blue hair last time I saw you. Going through a bit of a rebellious stage, weren't you?"

Sarah stammered. She dropped her fork, doing her best not to look anywhere else but Jareth's _brother's _face. How she hadn't noticed him when she walked in, she didn't know, but what she did know was that he was an asshole and she was in trouble- only judging by the look on Jareth's face.

"Explain yourselves," Jareth frowned, holding up a gloved hand to silence them both. He arched an eyebrow, frowning, "I'm…_intrigued."_

"Sarah didn't tell you?"

Sarah froze, eyes focusing on the surprised face of the Goblin King. He looked pissed, then angered and, finally, exasperated. "_No," _Jareth drawled, "She did not."

"Oh, well, Sarah and I dated."

He had said it so casually, shrugging as he did so, as it did not matter that he had just told his brother he had been _dating _his fiancé. Sarah fought hard against the compulsion to smack him, but instead settled for throwing her head back and growling, "He was an asshole."

"Hmmm…doesn't surprise me."

Beldroth feigned hurt; absentmindedly reflecting on the time Sarah wore a rather short skirt and ridiculous pair of boots- _that, _he grinned, _will be one for the wedding speech. _

"We didn't have sex," Sarah bluntly remarked, frowning. "The most…intimate…thing we did was touch each other up. In a _car park," _Sarah groaned, shaking her head. "God, teenagers can be so gross and weird when randy."

"_I _wasn't a teenager, my dear," Beldroth dryly remarked, raising an eyebrow. He looked her up and down, making her squirm as he licked his lips. "And you enjoyed it. In fact, you enjoyed it so much- now, what was it you said? Ah, 'Please-"

"Enough!" Jareth held up his hand, the other clamped over his face as he tried to shut out the embarrassing conversation. He pushed himself up from the chair, frowning as he turned to his brother and uttered, "You would do well to stay on my good side, Beldroth. No more messing with Sarah. Do you understand?"

Beldroth grinned, standing to face Jareth with a look in his eyes that suggested he was already bored. "No fear, it was just a jape. I will leave your mortal alone. Besides," he waggled his eyebrows at the disgusted Sarah, "I've already had my fun with her."

"Beldroth-"

Beldroth did not leave him any time to finish scolding, for he had already run from the room, whooping and laughing like the mischievous brother he was.

"I seriously wonder which one of you is the bigger brother," Sarah rolled her eyes, pushing herself from the chair. She hurried past Jareth, eyes only lingering on his for a mere second, before she opened the door and walked from the room.

_Brilliant, _Jareth grimaced; _they've gone and left me alone. I do hope Beldroth is going to train, and not to find some poor subject of mine to subject to his hideously bad japes. _

Sighing, he turned to sit himself down, but was interrupted by the voice behind him.

"My king," Its voice spoke in a beautiful foreign accent, the speaker glowing with golden light as it gracefully floated before him. "You grow weaker."

Jareth turned, eyes rolling as he came to face the spirit of his Labyrinth- or, as she preferred to be known as _The _Labyrinth, Aine. She glowed, hair spilling out behind her as it blew in the wind. Her dress, like everything about her, was golden and long, with beautiful sleeves that draped the floor. Her dress split at the sides, revealing her golden breeches, a sword also hidden under the many layers of fabric.

"Can't I just rest it, or use the rest?"

Aine frowned, folding her arms across her chest. "Don't be foolish," she hissed, "That is the reason why I have stopped you from using your magic. My boundaries work well, you know that. I can only stop you for so long, Jareth."

She floated towards the balcony, shaking her head. "Learn to control yourself, Jareth. You cannot do this with magic alone. There must be a _fight_. Promise me you will not overuse your magic, and I will consider taking the chains from you."

"How else will I protect Sarah when we sleep?"

"The wedding," Aine smiled softly, the curtains fluttering about her. "The wedding must be soon- very soon. You know how it can protect her. Marry her, and then I will release you from your bonds. I cannot let you use too much magic; it will _kill _you."

"I'm strong, not weak. You know my magical abilities are far greater than any other fae's. I could break these chains if I so wish," Jareth grimaced as her eyes flashed at his words, but took no notice as he picked up his drink and took a sip.

She shook her head. "Strong you may be, but do not forget that I can destroy you as easily as I created you."

"Aine, you did not create me. You are not my lady mother."

"Fate!" Aine hissed. "This was all fate, is that what you think? That you just so happened upon this kingdom when all was lost?" Her eyes were burning bright, her lips twisted into a snarl as she grew angrier. "I led you here. I taught you how to use your magic properly, I created the _king _that stands before me- before you were a mere youngling, someone who did not understand the magic they possessed, nor the world they had grew up in."

She turned, before beginning to fade. "Always remember the truth. Never let yourself be blinded by lies. I will crumble these walls, Jareth. I _am _your Labyrinth."


End file.
